


The Bastard And The Beast

by casstayinmyass



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Disney, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Bisexual Thomas Jefferson, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Gay John Laurens, George Washington is a Dad, Implied Sexual Content, John Is An Actual Disney Prince, Kissing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Slow Dancing, Swearing, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole, True Love's Kiss, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-10 04:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10429428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: A brashly ambitious young writer goes to a dangerous castle to find his father, but finds the grand adventure he's always dreamed of instead.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this before the new B&TB came out, but about halfway through this I saw it and changed it up a little. It's influenced by both the original and the live action, since there were some changes I liked in the new one, but yeah! Hope you enjoy this tale as old as time! 
> 
> #Ham4Beast
> 
>  
> 
> ((on the subject of beauty and the beast tho Luke Evans is ridiculously attractive someone help me))

> **T** here once lived a handsome prince named John Laurens, in a land far from here. His castle was huge, bright, and beautifully detailed- the handiwork of his family for many generations. Although John had everything his heart desired, he was spoiled, brash, and unkind.

One winter's night, the coldest many had seen, the prince held a great ball, inviting the most beautiful people in the world.

“How do I look?” the young prince grinned, checking himself out in the mirror. Hercules took a careful measurement on his side, and nodded in satisfaction at the beautified reflection.

“Damn good, your highness. If I do say so myself.”

“I would most certainly fuck you, monsieur,” Laf commented, downing his third champagne with an intoxicated hiccup, and John looked over at his maitre'd.

“Don’t you have a job to do, Laf?”

“Eh, Adrienne is handling it.”

“Eliza, Angelica, Peggy?” John grinned, “Where are the gorgeous sisters at?”

“Already out, dazzling the room,” Burr said as he entered, fixing his cuffs and picking up John’s powdered wig, “As you should be. Look at the time! It’s far past midnight, and you haven’t even made an appearance at your own-“

“Shut up, Burr,” John snapped, “I know what time it is. I need to look real perfect.”

“Yes, sir,” Burr nodded, and placed the wig over John’s head. Hercules fixed it up, and John admired his reflection, the painted mask concealing his freckled features. He could probably get any man he wanted in his bed tonight, he prided himself with a smirk, and turned around, leading them all out.

As he entered the ball, he took turns dancing with everyone, passing Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy, who each took a turn dancing with him before returning to their anonymous partners. The party truly was a spectacle- bright colours adorned the place, the vast gardens trimmed to perfection with the most beautiful white roses one had ever seen. The grandest event in the kingdom, this was not unlike John’s usual engagements; it bored him sometimes, but he kept busy in the castle closets with each and every exotic suitor who came in for a good time. He knew the servants called him easy behind his back, but he didn’t mind. The fact of the matter was, he _was_ easy- why not be, when you look this good? Besides, love was ridiculously overrated in John’s opinion, something that he could never truly achieve; he much preferred the company of strangers, a different one each night.

John danced his way through, taking a glass and downing it in one gulp. As each glass after that went to his head, he began to enjoy the party even more, getting louder and louder as the night twirled by like the skirts of the ladies. Herc and Laf, friends as they were as well as servants, tried to restrain the prince, but by two in the morning, John was drunk out of his mind and practically in everyone’s arms.

That’s when it happened.

Thunder cracked, and the laughter and energy in the room died as the doors blew open with a blinding flash of lightning. An old beggar woman then came through in a red cloak, falling to her knees. Claiming she was lost and helpless, she told John of the terrible pain her husband inflicted upon her. She then asked if she could stay for the night, and offered a single rose in return.

"I know you're a man of honor, but... won't you accept it, sir?"

John took one look at the woman and sneered, repulsed by her hideous face.

“Get outta here, old hag,” he laughed, and everyone in the room joined in weakly to appease their host, save for Eliza and a few others. Lafayette and Burr watched, hesitant to let it happen, but if they protested, John would simply have dismissed them in his state. The beggar warned the prince that looks could be deceiving... that true beauty was found within. The freckled prince simply scoffed at this- but before he could close the doors on her again, the beggar woman turned into a beautiful enchantress, cloak sweeping away to reveal a red dress with lips the same shade, hair tumbling down in thick brown locks.

“Wait… shit, sorry, I- I’m sorry!” John began to beg for mercy, in awe of the woman before him, but it was too late to mask his true nature. The enchantress placed a curse on the prince that night, the castle, and all of its inhabitants. This curse immediately transformed John into a beast, light brown curls warping into curly fur, freckles dotting the nose of a hairy creature that no one could ever come to love- every guest at the ball ran for their lives, screaming as John turned.

Ashamed of his form, the prince locked himself away inside the castle, the once great grounds growing over and transforming into a dark, foreboding place that not even the wolves would go near- the only window into the outside world was a magic mirror. The rose the enchantress had left was truly enchanted; it would bloom until his 25th birthday, and if John could learn to love another for their heart, not their body, before the last petal fell, the spell would be broken- if not, he and all of his servants would be doomed to remain this way forever.

As the years passed and petals fell one by one, John Laurens’ carefree enthusiasm soured, and turned into bitter anger and deep despair...

For who could learn to love a beast?


	2. I

Alexander tucked his books under one arm, venturing out to town for the morning. He had to return this treatise, and the historical war novel he had borrowed, which he had finished reading for the eighth time the night before- he crossed the bridge from his small cottage to the town pathway, watching the village houses grow closer with every hopped step.

It's not that he didn't like it... the friendly greetings of every person in town he knew, the delicious smells, the considerably attractive men and women out and about. But there was always something so stupidly _regular_ about it all. He dreamed of practicing law in far off, important places… if he stayed in this place, all he would amount to is maybe taking over the bookshop from Mr. Franklin, or following in his adoptive father's footsteps as mayor.

 _Huh._.. he could imagine how the latter would turn out. Alex didn't pretend to ignore the whispers of the townspeople- if he caught the phrase 'creole bastard' as he walked by, he didn't flinch away. That's how the town bursar got knocked out... Alex wasn't afraid to defend himself or his father's honour when people called him crazy. Put plainly, Alexander knew he was destined for something beyond this sleepy little town.

His eyes skimmed the pages of one of the thick books he was carrying as he once again cracked it open.

"Good morning, Alex!" someone called, and Alexander looked up to see John Jay opening up his bakery for the day.

"Morning, Mr. Jay," Alexander smiled, giving a little wave, "Nice day, huh?"

"That it is," the man nodded, "Where are you off to?"

"Library, obviously."

Mr. Jay smirked. "Did I even have to ask?"

"I just finished a great piece on old laws, and a book about a king that was overthrown by free-thinkers, with daring battles both on the battlefield and in command, even a tragic death for my _favourite_ character, oh I bawl every time when he dies even after the-"

"That's nice. Greene, the bread! Hurry up!"

Alex shrugged, and turned his nose back to the book until he had safely made it to the hole-in-the-wall library he frequented- the only truly intelligent establishment in this little town.

"Hamilton," the warm, balding man seated at a desk beamed, "Back again, my boy?" The older man had crow’s feet at the corners of his warm eyes, and a circumference of long grey hair around his round head.

"You seriously surprised, Mr. Franklin?" Alex raised his eyebrows, and hopped up on the rolling ladder to put his book back. Franklin chuckled, and shook his head.

"Alexander? Wait, now."

"Hm?" Alex barely paused to turn back.

"You sure like that Revolution book a lot..." he hummed, adjusting his spectacles, "I’d like you to keep it."

Alex's eyes widened, as he turned around fully. "Oh... oh, but sir-!"

"Maybe it'll save you a few trips," Benjamin winked, and Alexander gasped in delight as he clutched the book to his chest.

"I love love _love_ this story, thank you, _thank_ you!"

"Yes, yes," Benjamin murmured, smirking, "Now go enjoy yourself."

"Yessir!" Alex called, and left the door jingling on its hinges as he was on his way. Grinning down at the book as he walked back through the village, he almost didn't catch the stares of the townspeople.

"He really is a brilliant boy," a lady murmured, and another nodded.

“Destined for great things, no doubt.”

"But he's so odd- talks a mile a minute, I can't even keep up!" Then the man, Samuel Seabury, joined in, sticking up his nose.

"He's rude, brash, and will let anyone in his bed without a second thought. Shameful! I certainly wish he would leave this town and take his _incompetent_ father with him. Another day with that man in administration will lead to nothing but chaos and bloodshed.” He huffed. “I say the last George in office was much better."

But the one man who could keep up at least an intelligent conversation with him came sauntering right down the street, attracting the stares from the townies from puzzlement to adoration. Alexander was too engrossed in his book to notice the tall figure planted right in his path, and slammed into the chest of the very man he loathed more than being proven wrong.

"Hamilton!" Thomas Jefferson flashed his winning smile, crossing his arms, "Out early today, I see." Beside him, his significantly shorter friend and resident groupie, James Madison, held all his equipment for him- they must have been out riding.

"Get out of my way, Jefferson," Alexander mumbled, but Thomas easily plucked the book Alex was reading from his hands, looking it over.

"Hmmm, I've read this one. Hated it, it's political drivel, there are much better things to be doing with your time."

Alexander eyed Jefferson. Every sane person in town was head over heels in love with him, his ridiculously god-like body, and that stupid, asshole smirk of his.

"Like what?" he managed.

"Like looking at me," Thomas replied, grinning obnoxiously. Alex rolled his eyes.

"Gimme my book back.”

"What are you prepared to do for it?" Thomas teased, making kissy lips.

"Punch you in your stupid handsome face!" Alex bit back, clenching his fists as if to ready himself. Thomas just chuckled, infuriating Alex further.

"You're a sexy little thing when you're all riled up, sugar. I bet I could rile you up even more, if..." he reached out to brush a thumb down Alexander's cheek, but Alex leaned out of it.

"I gotta go. My dad's waiting for me to help him."

"Ohhh," Thomas and James shared a look. "Of course. The man needs all the help he can get, after-" the two began hemming and hawing. "Well... dude's fucked up." Alexander's face scrunched up yet again.

"Just because my father's become a little more reclusive and removed in his politics as he gets older, doesn't make him crazy - don't fucking talk about my father that way!" Thomas' eyes widened, and he immediately turned to James, glaring.

"Yeah Jemmy, don't fucking talk about his father that way!"

James gave a tired look. "I'm sorry, Alexander."

"Anyway, I was hoping you'd accompany me for drinks and dancing tonight, Alex," Thomas said, directing his hungry gaze back at Alexander, "And maybe afterwards, we can take the dancing off our feet and..."

Thomas was hot, but he wasn't _that_ hot. Blinking, Alex replied calmly, "I would rather spoon out my eyeballs and eat them en flambe.” He smirked. “That means-“

“I know what it means, I lived in France!” Thomas fumed, and Alex snickered. With that, he snatched his book back out of the taller man's hands, and gave Madison a little nod before brushing past them toward home.

Thomas' face contorted, and his arms crossed angrily. "Do you... do you _know_ how many people in this town would give anything to sleep with me, Hamilton?!" he shouted, and three girls, Martha, Dolley, and Eleanor rushed to his side, subsequently mooning over him. After a minute of the affectionate stroking and watching Alex disappear, Thomas just huffed, pushing past the women and starting back down the street with James following close behind.

"He's too stubborn," Thomas muttered to James, "I've got to find a way to make him mine."

"The only way you can truly do that, is with marriage," James retorted. Then his eyes widened. "Not that I sanction-"

"Jemmy! I'm a genius!" Thomas shouted, "I'll _marry_ Alexander! There's no way he can say no to that. God, I’m brilliant. Aren’t I brilliant, James?"

"Brilliant, Thomas," James sighed, and followed his friend past the heart eyes that gazed his way.

The wooden door slammed against the wall on impact as Alexander opened it. George Washington, from where he was working at his desk, looked up expectantly.

"Didn't have the book you wanted?"

"Worse- he did, but it's now got Thomas Jefferson's grubby fingerprints all over it," Alex grumbled, tossing the book down on an armchair. George raised an eyebrow, smiling a little at Alexander's emotional display.

"Ever think of accepting his advances? Correct me if I'm wrong, but that Thomas Jefferson seems like a nice guy- at least, everyone in town thinks so."

"This is me correcting you- because you're wrong."

George put his hands up, standing. "Alright. I personally don't care, as long as you're happy... and he doesn't seem to like _me_ very much anyway, so I wouldn't know."

"Nobody likes you," Alexander muttered, "This entire town hates me _and_ you, they think I'm an outsider, and just because you're the mayor doesn't mean they think you..." He trailed off, and realized he had once again run his mouth off without thinking. "I'm... sorry, pops, I-"

"Hush," George admonished with a soft smile, "You're right. Which is why I'm taking a little trip this weekend, to garner some support from the next town over."

Alex frowned. "How far away is that?"

"It'll take a day or so. I expect you to hold down the fort while I'm gone-" he paused, smirking, "And remember, if what you say is true... we've got the dog out back, in case Thomas comes around while I'm gone."

Alexander grinned. "Remember the time he tore a hole in Seabury's cloak?"

"And ate that damned speech for the committee? Like it was yesterday," George chuckled with his son, and gathered up a stack of papers. "Help me with all this desk work, will you?"

* * *

At morning light, George packed up his things for the road, and set out on horseback. It was a long way to town, past the waters, and through the woods to get to the next village over. His horse, Nelson, took him through the mountains and sunny pathways, by the rushing Potomac River, and on to the forest. By the time darkness fell, the moon began to cloud over and the night life emerged, George whistling an old army tune to brighten up the way. Eventually, the venture began to drag on.

"We should really be there by now... I'm thinkin’ we took a wrong turn." Nelson made a small grunting noise, but George stroked his mane reassuringly. "We're good, though. We can easily find our way."

They came to a fork in the road, the right a row of cherry trees and illuminating moonlight, the left a dark, winding path of bramble and fog. Nelson nudged right.

"No no, it's left," George murmured, "I'm sure of it." Checking his pocket for the map, he realized it wasn't there. "Well... I know it's down here." Nelson continued to try and tug them down the lighter, more cheerful-looking path, but Washington shook his head, pulling tighter on the reigns. " _This_ way, Nelson. That's an order."

Nelson knew his master's commanding voice. Making a small whinnying sound, the horse reluctantly turned down the darker path, wind whistling through the branches. They kept on like that, the light dimming even more as the trees began to shade the moonlight. George fit his hat over his bald head, lit a lantern, and held it up to see the way... shouldn't they be getting close by now?

"Nelson... where have I taken us?" he mumbled absently. Suddenly, a piercing howl echoed from behind them, and Nelson began to whinny a little. George turned, on full alert. There were wolves in these woods, and he'd be damned if he'd let them come anywhere near him or his horse. "Pick it up a little, Nel, you got me?" he whispered, patting the horse's neck, and Nelson did pick up his pace. The distant howling of the wolves started to sound not-so-distant... George looked behind them again. "Let's turn around."

Just then, they heard something move in the bushes, and Nelson took off quickly, George hanging on with one hand. "Whoa, boy!" he shouted, but the horse wouldn't let. They kept going until they reached a high cliff, Nelson immediately backing up.

"It's alright, it's... it's alright," George breathed, gripping the reigns, "We're fine, hold your ground-" Another wolf howl, and Nelson reared up, sending George to the ground and his lantern to the dirt. "Wait!" he called, but his horse had already taken off running back down the path. "Shit," he muttered to himself, searching for matches to light the lantern back up again. Finding nothing, he stood, brushing himself off... only to see the wolves approaching from the trees. Eyes widening, the mayor began to run, through the bramble with the wolves hot on his heels. After a few paces, he tripped on a root, and tumbled down a steep hill, bashing his head on a rock. George reached up to feel blood, but had no time to stop as the wolves slid down after him, barking and snapping.

Continuing to run, he saw a huge iron gate up ahead, sinister gargoyles protecting it. He ran full force at the bars, and they swung open, long enough for him to get inside. Just as the wolf snapped at his ankle and bit down, George cried out, and yanked his foot in before slamming the gate. Leaving the feral animals to bite at the iron, the tall man limped his way up to the great front doors of the large, foreboding castle he had had the luck to stumble upon. The front door opened with a loud creak, and George tumbled in, closing it again.

"H-hello?" he managed weakly. He tried to stand up straight and maintain his usual respectable stature, but the pain of his torn ankle and the dizziness of his head injury prevented him. At the opposite end of the giant foyer, two objects began to twitch, whispering to each other under their breath. The candelabra, which had one handle painted with the American flag and one with the French, tapped the clock on the head. The clock looked over.

"Look at him, Burr," the candelabra hissed, gesturing to George, "He is cold and frightened."

"He doesn't look too frightened," the clock muttered back.

Lafayette, the candelabra, huffed. "Well, he looks _shaken_ at least. Zut, he is bleeding, for god's sake. We must help him."

"The master-" Burr began, but Laf burned him in the ass with one of his flames, sending the clock yelping. George jerked his head over, narrowing his eyes.

"Hello?"

"Bonsoir!"

George whipped around again. "Who said that?" He couldn't see anyone, as far as he could discern from his double vision.

"Over here, mon ami!"

" _Lafayette, shhh, John-_ "

" _Ah_ , _hush._ "

"Who's there?!" George demanded, walking right by the two objects, and Laf cleared his throat. George finally turned, and wrapped a fist around the candlestick for a better look around the dark place... until Laf moaned in his grip.

"Ohh, monsieur, touch me there again..."

Burr could barely hold back his laughter as George dropped Lafayette, the candelabra coughing and groaning from hitting the ground.

"That's what you get for being a _hoe_ ," Burr shook his head, hopping down from the table to help his friend up. Laf glared at him.

"Merde, I am not a, 'ow you say, _hoe_. It is just that have not been touched like that since I was human."

"I know, I hear you moan and groan about it all day long,” Burr muttered, reluctantly dusting Laf off.

"Seven years of abstinence, Burr. How would you like me to tickle your clock hands, see how fast _you_ tick for me?" George was currently watching their conversation transpire, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. "Ahh! Apologies, mon ami!" Laf exclaimed, turning to look up at George, "I am afraid we cannot expect the master of the castle down to welcome you-"

"Understatement," Burr coughed.

"-But we will show you to the fire, so you may warm up," Laf bowed, and Burr suddenly sputtered.

"Wait a minute!"

"He is dying, Burr, can you not see?!"

"You're being dramatic."

"You're being an ass!"

"I'm the one trying to prevent further bouts of the master's," the clock gulped, "Rage. It isn’t pretty."

"We will keep it a secret," Laf muttered.

"If we can't, John will blame me!"

"Yes, I will make sure of it." Laf turned back to George, who was still speechless. "Follow us, cher."

"H-How can you-?" George began, shaking his head. He really must have taken that fall hard...

"Enchantment," Burr informed him.

"A curse," the candlestick rolled his eyes, "Because John was too stupid to do what we are doing now to a cold stranger at our doors."

"Who's John?" George asked, looking around at the beautifully gothic architecture and decoration of the castle. 

"Somebody you do not want to meet," Burr retorted, pushing the man's ankles into a small sitting room. Inside, Laf hopped over to the fireplace and lit it with one of his flames, and once the blazing fire was going, he hopped back over.

"Sit down, monsieur, please. Warm yourself!"

Aaron sighed. "Well... if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em." His time hands ticked twice inside his "chest", and he slid over. "I’m Aaron Burr. Reliable head of household staff, and reliable with the ladies!" he smirked.

"You are a clock," Lafayette deadpanned, and Burr frowned.

"I wasn't always," he complained, and gestured over. "Alright, your turn."

"Oui oui, mon ami. Je m'appelle Lafayette, the Lancelot of this castle. I was the maitre'd when I was human... now, I am but a candleabra." George cleared his throat.

"Uhh, how did you say you got to be… this way?"

Lafayette sighed. "As we mentioned, a terrible curse befell this castle years ago. Now, we are all doomed to live as inanimate objects... that is, until the master finds-" Burr nudged him, and Laf trailed off.

"The master..." George mused, beginning to comfortably warm up as the fire dried his clothing, "You keep talking about him. I’d like to thank him for the hospitality- where might he b-"

Just then, the door to the sitting room slammed open, the harsh wind blowing out the fire immediately. The room returned to a chilling cold, and Lafayette and Burr huddled, hiding behind the footstool together until Laf shoved the clock off of him and straightened up.

"A-Ah!" Laf spoke up meekly, "Bonjour, John!"

"I told you it was too late for visitors," Burr hissed to Laf, "And fools who invite strangers in wind up dead."

"W-what time is it?" Laf shot back.

"Showtime," the hulking creature growled.

"Like I said," Burr sighed, and John grabbed Washington, dragging the man out the door and back into the foyer.

"Come to gawk at the beast, huh?!" he shouted. His voice didn't match his appearance- he sounded like a young man.

"Whoa!" George shouted, trying to struggle out of the violent grip- he was a tall build, but no match for this, "I was just looking for a place to stay! My horse ran away, and I won't be able to find my way home until morning-!"

"You want a place to stay, old man?!" the beast laughed scornfully, "Comin' right up!"

Lafayette and Burr began to softly protest, but the beast just roared at them, silencing any objection. George was taken down a winding staircase to a row of dark, damp dungeon cells, where he was thrown into one and locked up.

"Hold on!" Washington shouted, reaching out, "I-I didn't mean to disturb you!"

"You'd better shut your mouth before I do."

"My son! My son, Alexander, he’s back in town, he'll wonder where I am!"

"Your son?" the beast asked, turning slightly out of curiosity.

"Yes! I'm the mayor! Let me out this minute, or I'll-"

"You'll die in here," the beast snapped, and left without a second glance back. George slammed his fists against the bars, and fell limp in his weak state against them.


	3. II

A day went by. Alexander sat by the crackling hearth of his fireplace with his fifty-first page of writing, quill going mad as it furiously scratched the ink in.

Suddenly, a knock at the door sounded, and Alex frowned. It couldn't be his dad back for something... George never forgot anything, to his knowledge. He went over to check the peephole.

_Fuck... Jefferson._

"I know you're in there, Alexander!" Thomas sing-songed, primping his huge hair.

Alex sighed in resignation, and unbolted the door. "What do you want, Thomas?"

"Oh," Thomas came charging in, flopping down in his _dad's_ chair and tossing his feet up, "You and me, nice place out of town, much like this one but _classier_ , snuggling up by the fireplace as you rub my back and trim my beard, with lots of cute puppies running around that we'll adopt as our children."

Alex glared. "What is this?"

"You a cat person? That's fine, we'll get cats."

"Jefferson, what the hell are you talking about?!" Alex's already stretched patience was wearing thin.

"Marriage! Alexander Jefferson... it's got a nice ring to it, much better than _Hamilton,_ ugh. Anyway, I’ve already designed our house- it’s called Monticello, and it’s _beautiful_. You’re gonna love it there, once we’re hitched."

"Oh," Alexander murmured simply, his mind processing this and eyes lighting up. "You're... proposing?"

"That I am, darlin'," Thomas grinned, stretching out in an attempt to flex his biceps, “In fact, we can do it right here, today.” Alexander bit his lip, getting so close to Thomas that he was sliding into his lap. The taller man eyed him excitedly, placing his hands on Alexander's hips as Alex leaned in so close their noses were touching. "So what'dya say?" he breathed, momentarily lost in Alex's deep brown eyes and wandering hands.

"I say..." Alex smiled, trailing a finger down to Thomas' shirt collar, "...you must be out of your _god damn mind!_ " Thomas was startled out of his dreamlike haze, eyes widening as Alex grabbed him by the collar and stood him up. "Now get the _fuck_ out of my house or I'll run you through with a butter knife and dance on your bleeding corpse!"

"How _dare_ y-"

"Out!" Alex screeched, and Jefferson tumbled out the door right into an opportune mud puddle. James was waiting outside with the rest of the townspeople that had gathered. The band began to play, and Samuel began to recite the opening vows-

"Thomas?" James asked, quirking his head at the dirtied man on the ground.

"I'll get him, make no mistake. The little shit won't know what's coming," Thomas growled, and spat out mud.

Behind the door, Alexander laughed. Hopefully now, Thomas would leave him alone. Making sure everyone had left him be, he opened the back door out onto the quiet field, sauntering out and collapsing in the high grass. Puppies, a boring little place just like this one, his would-be husband's back hair... none of that sounded particularly appealing. Thomas would probably have a better shot of getting with _James_.

"Alexander Jefferson," he remarked out loud toward the sky, and he felt the bile rising at the sound of it. Just then, George's horse came galloping through the field, stopping at Alexander and rearing its hooves in wild urgency.

"Nelson? Hey, where's pops?" Alex got up, looking around. Nelson continued to neigh and jerk his head wildly, so Alexander put a hand on his nose, stroking to calm him. "Shhh... is he alright?” Panic began to rise. “You’ve gotta take me to him!"

Making his way through the woods with Nelson twice as fast as George had, Alexander made it to the castle in little under an hour. Nelson whinnied, backing up, and Alex found a few drops of crimson by the gate, right by... "Shit!" he gasped, “His hat!”

Alex patted Nelson on the nose to wait. Creaking the gate open, he stared up at the towering castle. A thunderstorm had started, illuminating the shadows of the stone gargoyles and threatening pikes. Feeling not afraid, but indignant, Alexander marched up to the front door, banging it open.

"Pops!" he called, his voice echoing. Looking around, he shook the droplets from his rain-soaked hair, and sniffled. "Pops, you here?!"

" _Sweet jesus,"_ Burr whispered to Lafayette, peeking around the corner.

 _"Mon dieu, it cannot be..."_ Laf whispered back, and they both stared up in reverie at Alexander as the young man strode past them, calling out again for his father. Making his way up a staircase, Alex began to notice his surroundings darkening significantly, even more so than the main floor. Lafayette and Burr kept their distance, but followed.

_"A young man the same age as our John! Perhaps there is still hope.”_

_“He’s not bad looking, I’ll admit."_

_“And John’s type!”_

_"He could be the one to break the spell, Laf.”_

Alex turned around, hearing the hush of whispers behind him, but realizing it must have been the drafty wind, turned back around. "Pops?!" he shouted again, and this time, he heard someone shout back.

"Alexander?!"

Alex's eyes widened, and he ran over to what looked like a cell, his father holding onto the bars. He looked cold, sick, as if he hadn't eaten in days. His clothing was too minimal for the temperature down there, and he began to cough. "Oh… we gotta get you out-"

"Alex, listen. Get out of here, now."

Alex took a step back, confusion evident. "What?"

"You have to go.”

“But _sir_ -“

“There's a beast... he's huge, and he'll-"

Just then, a large shadow loomed over Alexander and his father, blocking any light. Alex turned, and squinted... all he could make out were two eyes, amber.

"Who are you, and what the fuck have you done to my father?!" Alexander immediately stood back up, on the defensive. "He's cold, and sick, and the _mayor_ of my village, so-"

"He shouldn't have been lurking around here!" the figure snapped back, and Alex swallowed. The voice was oddly intriguing, albeit currently inflammatory.

"He was _lost_."

"He wasn't invited in!"

"Well..." Lafayette squeaked from behind, before Burr pinched him to keep quiet. Alexander frowned, momentarily distracted by what looked like walking objects. Then, the figure spoke again.

"Bottom line? Your father shouldn't have been in my castle. And for that matter, neither should you."

 _"Enter the Casanova,"_ Laf mumbled softly, and Burr huffed a sigh.

"Well then, give me my father and I'll leave!" Alexander retorted, crossing his arms stubbornly. The figure crossed his arms as well.

"He's not going anywhere. He wanted a place to stay, he got one."

Alexander's lower lip trembled. It was evident he wasn't going to get what he wanted out of this from the headstrong guy who apparently owned this ugly castle, so it was time to bargain... and bargain hard.

"Fine, asshole. Let me take his place."

"Alex, no!" George commanded adamantly, "Greatness lies in you! I'm old, I'll be consigned to oblivion soon, do _not_ throw away your life like this." Alexander wasn't listening.

"Let me take his place as your prisoner- let him go free."

The figure shifted. "Man, you'd... you'd do that for him?"

"Of course!" Alexander barked, "That's my father. He did the same for me when my family died!"

Something that may have resembled empathy flashed through the figure's eyes, but they froze over once more after a second of contemplation.

"Master," Lafayette whispered to him, nudging his leg, "The _spell_." Burr was nodding, but the figure remained hesitant as he addressed Alex.

"Strong words. You sure you want me to hold you to them?"

Alexander took in a deep breath, then thought of something. "Wait... what's your name?"

"Why the hell do you want to know?"

"I want to know who my _captor's_ gonna be!" Alex mouthed off, and George rubbed his temples watching. The boy was going to get himself killed.

There was a long pause, then the man finally spoke. "John. John Laurens."

Alex opened his mouth again. "Step into the light." Genuinely curious as to who he would thereby belong to, he watched intently- and gasped when the ray of moonlight revealed a creature, fur light brown and clothes fit for royalty. It- _he_ \- also seemed to have freckles over his nose. The beast looked a little enraged at the reaction, but Lafayette and Burr both came bouncing back, tugging at his cloak to restrain him. Alexander looked around, wondering if he was experiencing a bad dream he just couldn't wake up from.

"I... give you my word, John Laurens," he murmured. John's grin flashed in the dark.

"You're mine."

Immediately, Alexander collapsed to the ground, the weight of what he had just done finally hitting him in the pit of his stomach- he wanted freedom from his little town, and what did he get himself instead? A damp cell in some terribly cursed castle.

Even Jefferson's utopian mansion sounded better than this... But it was already done. John unlocked Washington, who tried to reason with Alex before being dragged off again; the mayor was thrown in a carriage, sent back to town before Alex could even say goodbye. Alexander hurried to watch desperately from a window as his father was taken away, but was taken up the staircase to the highest tower of the castle, thrown into a dusty little room.

"You can't treat me like this!"

"You should learn to watch your mouth," the beast growled.

"And you should learn how to fucking speak to people!" Alex shot back angrily, and the beast's eyes widened. He obviously wasn't used to being spoken to like that... _well, good._ He should learn some manners.

" _You_ volunteered to stay here!" the beast shouted.

"Any moral person would have!" Alex cried back. The beast's large fists tightened, but instead of acting on his fury as Alexander assumed he would, the creature just growled, slamming the door shut. Alex felt the tears prick his eyes as he thought of his father, his home, his dog.

He didn't even get to say goodbye.

* * *

Back in the town tavern, Thomas sat with a mug of Sam Adams, pouting in a large armchair by the fire.

"You really shouldn't pout, Thomas. It's unbecoming of you," James advised as he gave him a massage, but when Thomas shot him a withering glare, he recoiled. “What I meant to say was, you look very manly when you pout!”

Thomas rolled his eyes, and continued to moan and complain about Hamilton. "Nobody says no to Thomas Jefferson. No one _can_! I mean..." he leaned back into James' hands, "Just look at me!"

From one table, the three girls sighed, batting their eyelashes at him. Thomas sent a wink and a kiss their way, then crossed his arms. "Who does that loudmouth bastard think he is?! He came from nothing, he _is_ nothing, he should be jumping at the chance to marry someone like me. I just don't get it." Thomas deflated slightly. "I'm attractive! I'm smart, I'm funny..."

"You're big and strong!" someone shouted, and another joined in.

"Yeah, and real witty too!"

"You know how to speak French!"

"You can make real good mac and cheese!"

“God, you’re a fox!”

Thomas smirked. "All very true, ladies and gentlemen. I lived in France for four years, I work out every day, I make a mean whiskey pecan pie, and really," he sniffed, placing a hand on his chest, "If people would only give me a chance, I'm just an all around great guy."

Girls gathered around him, pawing at his coat, twirling his curls, and mooning over him. Thomas placed a kiss on one's hand, right before she fainted into her friend's arms. James cleared his throat.

“That's all very true.”

Thomas’ face darkened. "Yeah, but according to Alexander, I'm just an asshole out for tail."

"Well..." James began, but sunk back once more as Thomas frowned at him. The smaller man sighed, and held up a hand. “Alright. Listen, Thomas- it disheartens me to see you like this. Every man in here would either love to be you or be _in_ you!”

“Meh.”

“Hey,” James put a hand on the gloomy man's shoulder, then turned, raising a glass. “You need to change course, find some way to redeem yourself! You don’t deserve this.” Thomas just rolled his eyes, so James winced. “No one's...." he searched for words, "Slick as you! No one flirts like you do! No one... prances around in pink coats like you do!"

"Hm," Thomas cracked a small smile.

"You can ask anyone, Jefferson," James walked over to Monroe, Adams, and Lee. "You've got guys who would give up their wives for you!"

"I would do no such-" Monroe began, but upon watching Thomas flex as he lifted his own mug to his mouth, began to stammer.

"Like I said," James smirked, turning back to Thomas, "No one's quite got your charm and your finesse, or your biceps for that matter. Every time you walk by, women faint. No one smiles like you do-"

"No one swallows like you do!" some guy called out from the back, to which James choked and Thomas winked.

"No one humiliates me just as much as you do," James sighed, and Thomas got up, placing a boot on his chair and fluffing his hair.

"I use velvet in all of my decorating!"

"Say it again?" James shouted.

"JEFFERSON!" everyone in the tavern cheered, and alcohol began to flow freely and cheerfully again as Thomas' pride was restored.


	4. III

John paced in the hallway, servants behind him advising him carefully.

"Perhaps a nice smile would prompt him to come out?" Lafayette suggested weakly.

“What good is that going to do if he won’t even come out to _see_ the smile?” John growled, and Laf blinked for a moment.

“Mais oui, I see your point.”

“Just knock on the door- really nice- and ask sweetly if he’d like to join you for dinner!” Burr suggested, “Then, give him the old razzle dazzle, if you will sir, and say: "I’m a trust fund, baby, you can trust me."" John gave him a look.

“Was that how you snagged Theo, Burr?” he asked, and Burr coughed, blushing. “Besides, _I_ wouldn’t want to join me for dinner. I kinda just locked him up.”

“Remember- it is for good reason,” Laf insisted, and nudged him forward toward the door. “Go ahead… ask him, monsieur.”

John took a deep breath, and ran a hand through his mane of hair before knocking on the door to the small tower bedroom he had given Alexander (thrown him into).

“Alexander?”

There was a long pause, before a tiny, “ _what_?” came out.

“Would you…” John cleared his throat, “Join me for dinner?”

“Please, say please,” Laf urged.

“ _Please_ join me for dinner?” John added, straightening up presentably in case the door opened. After a minute, Alex’s defiant voice sounded again.

“Fuck off!”

John’s fists clenched, and his temper rose.

“Laurens…” Burr muttered, and John gave one last pound on the door.

“Fine! If you won’t eat with me, you’ll god damn _starve_!”

With that, he stomped off down the hallway, Laf hopping worriedly after him for consolation, and Burr stayed there, rolling his eyes.

Inside the room, Alexander mocked John’s outburst with imitative hand motions. “I’ll gladly starve, thanks,” he scoffed.

“Whoa!”

Alex jumped, looking around the tower room wildly. “Uh… hello?”

“That was the shit, you just put John in his place. Nobody’s been able to do that since… well, me and Laf.”

Alex narrowed his eyes. “Who am I talking to?!”

“Look around,” the voice deadpanned, and Alex turned to see the doors of the wardrobe fly open, eyes at the top opening as well.“ Hercules Mulligan!” the closet shouted, “Up in it, lovin’ it- I was the Prince’s personal tailor… back when I was a dude.” Alex gulped.

“I’m Alexander Hamilton.”

“You sure are a feisty little guy.”

“Um… thank you?”

“I think what you need is a good makeover.”

“Makeover?! I’m stuck in a castle full of cursed shit, I’ll never see my father again, and I’ve got a bitchy monster harassing me for a dinner date! Why the hell would I want a makeover?!”

“John’s so much more than a bitchy monster,” Herc pointed out, “He’s a bitchy gay monster.”

“How can you tell?” Alex snapped.

“Like I said, he wasn’t always like this,” the wardrobe told him, “Neither were we.”

Reluctantly, Alex rose, and shuffled his way over to the wardrobe.

“Behold,” Herc said dramatically, “ _Pants_.” Inside, there were beautiful suits, jackets, cravats, shiny boots, clean socks…

“I’m not dining with him,” Alex shook his head, “So there’s no need. I’ll keep my own dirty clothes, thanks."

Still... the gorgeous satin was tempting.

He refused to look, closing Herc’s doors. Just as he returned to his bed to sulk, he heard another voice.

“Boy!”

He looked around. “Is there a _hatbox_  I should be worried about now?”

“Don’t get smart with me,” a pink book on the desk stood up, jumping over to the bed. “You’d better stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I-I’m not feeling sorry for myself,” Alex snapped, oddly confused at the fact that he was arguing with a book that had a very nice voice.

“Yes you are, it’s pathetic.” The book scoffed. “My name is Angelica Schuyler.”

“Alexander Hamilton.”

“Where’s your family from?” the book asked, as if she wasn’t just dragging him seconds ago.

“Unimportant, I’ll never see them again,” Alex heaved a sigh, collapsing back on the dusty bed. Suddenly, there was a little knock at the door.

"I said I'm not hungry!" Alex screamed at the door, and it nudged open a little, a sweet voice coming up from the floor.

"That's alright, sweetie- I've only got tea anyway."

Alex's eyes widened, and he brought his feet up on the bed as a light blue teapot hopped in and a small mauve teacup with a chip followed after her.

"I'll never get used to this," he whispered, and the teapot giggled.

"I'm not sure I'm used to it," she laughed, and tipped her spout forward. "Elizabeth Schuyler. Pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Schuyler?" Alex repeated, side eyeing the book.

"My sister," Angelica grinned, “Well, one of two.”

"Hi!” the tiny teacup said, "I've got seven brothers and sisters, but you can recognize me easy ‘cause I got into a bit of a fight when I was seven with this village boy named George Eacker who gave me a scar right on my hip, so now I’ve got a chip in my brim because of him!”

“Slow down,” Eliza hushed.

“Can I show him my poem, mom, can I?"

"Go ahead," the teapot laughed.

"My name is Philip. I am a teacup. And I wrote this poem myself, yup yup. And I, just turned nine, used to have freckles but now I just shine."

"What?!" Alex grinned.

"I practiced french and played piano with my mother-"

"Uh huh?"

"I have some sisters and I’ve got a lot of brothers."

"Okay!"

"I wanna play again, we gotta break the spell, so go kiss Master Laurens, I promise I won't tell!"

Eliza's eyes widened, and the teapot turned a little pink.

"Philip, t-time for bed."

"No, that was," Alex laughed, wiping his eyes, "That was really cute. Bravo, little guy."

Philip glanced up shyly. "Want some tea?"

Alex smiled. "I prefer coffee, but right now? Love some."

Eliza nodded, and gave her son a look before pouring tea into him and letting him hop over to the newcomer. Alex lifted him up to his mouth, and Philip giggled.

"Your beard tickles! Can you stay for a long time, Mister Sir?"

"You can call me Alex. And, um... it doesn't look like I'll be going anywhere for a long time... not unless I can chew through bars."

"Oh, good! It's so cool, you coming here!" Philip went on, blissfully unaware of the hostage situation, "With the rose petals and everything in the west wing? You'll totally break the spell, and I'll be able to play the piano again!"

"Philip, shhh," Eliza admonished, giving him warning eyes, and the little teacup drew back.

"Sorry, mom."

Alex set him down softly, but shook his head. "I appreciate the tea... and your words. But I don't think I'm the guy you've got in mind."

The pleasant teapot looked back. "Of course. He doesn't understand-"

"Understand what?" Philip asked, frowning, "I understand fine! Alex is handsome, John..." he made a face, "Well, John _used_ to be handsome, and now that Alex is living here, they can get married and kiss and then they can both be handsome again together!" Alexander gave the cup a confused look- based on what everyone was saying, these objects hadn't always been objects? 

"Goodnight, Alex," Eliza ushered the cup in front of her, "Hopefully we'll be seeing you around the castle... if not, not to worry- I'll be sure to come back with more tea to make doubly sure you don't freeze up here."

Alex nodded, and tugged at his ponytail restlessly as he stared out the high window- this particular one had iron preventing him from opening the window and jumping out. He thought back to the little cottage where he lived back in town, and how worried his father would be for him. He really had no reason to worry- Alex could take care of himself in any situation, if his mouth didn't get the better of him. If George was in Alex's place, he would probably try to reason and reconcile with his captor.

But George wasn't Alex, and Alex wasn't George.

It was late, and the writer's stomach was grumbling; but he was nothing if not stubborn, and he was not about to reconcile with his captor, no matter how sexy and in need of a suitor everyone claimed John Laurens to be.

* * *

"Please! Someone's got to help me!"

The warmth of the village tavern was disturbed by the chilling snow blowing in as Washington stumbled through the doors, almost knocking his head on the sign. Everyone turned to look up at the man, and George straightened himself, coughing into his cloak.

"Please, I need help. My son, Alexander, needs help, he’s locked up!"

Thomas turned at the mention of Alex's name. "Washington?" He stood, crossing his arms, and regarded the esteemed man's posture, torn clothing, and limp. Instead of offering him a stiff drink and a seat, the flamboyant man tapped his foot impatiently. "What's going on? Just who’s got Alexander locked up?!"

"A... a terrible beast," George managed, looking around, "He has Alexander locked away in a castle, deep out in the woods!"

Everyone looked at each other for a moment of silence, then began to laugh, Jefferson the loudest.

"Well Jemmy, it seems the ol' commander in chief's finally lost it!" Thomas cackled, slapping his knee, and James joined in with stifled chuckles.

"It would appear so, Thomas."

"I'm not crazy," George assured with a frown, holding up his hands, "But I need to save my son. I can't do that by myself- please, Mr. Jefferson. I need all the capable men and women we can rally."

"A beast, you say?" Thomas crowed, leaning in close to George's face and cocking his head mockingly. "An actual beast? Do you think I'm _fuckin’_ insane?!"

Everyone began to laugh again, and Washington got desperate, smashing a mug and raising his voice. "Listen to me! You've got to help!"

"Is this beast real big?" Charles Lee snickered.

"Huge," George nodded.

"Is he very hairy, sir?" James smirked cruelly.

"E-extremely."

"He is a... _real_ beast, and not one in a pornographic sense, right?" Thomas winked, "Just so we're clear."

"I thought you cared for my son, Jefferson! His _life_ is on the line here!"

"My dick is on the line, old man, if your son doesn't say yes to my proposal. Enough fucking around!"

George's nostrils flared as he straightened up. "How dare you-"

"Boys?" Jefferson smiled, "I think our good mayor needs some _rest_." Four men grabbed Washington by the shoulders to escort him out. George was easily able to fight them off, but one kicked him in the back of the knee, sending him to the ground until they hauled him up and tossed him out of the tavern.

"That man is a damn menace to society," Jefferson scowled, sitting back down, "He should be put in a facility, not be running our town."

"Mm. Crazy old Washington," James agreed, coughing into his handkerchief from the cold air, "Even crazier than his son." Suddenly, Thomas' eyes began to widen.

"Crazy old Washington, hey? Hmm.... crazy old Washington..." James raised his eyebrows at Thomas, who held a finger up. "James, I'm afraid I've been thinking."

"Well, you do it all the time. I mean, you're one of the most brilliant-"

"And what I've come up with is by far the best plan I've ever had."

James smirked, checking around for any eavesdroppers. "Ah. Do tell."

* * *

Alex’s door was opened once more, and the young man roused. He didn’t even remember falling asleep, but it had been a long day, so he couldn’t say he was surprised to wake up, half draped over the dusty sheets. He squinted into the light shining through the crack, and saw two of the objects there.

_So it hadn’t just been a dream._

“Alexander, mon ami,” Lafayette whispered, beckoning with a flame, “Follow us.”

Reluctantly, Alex got up. He shouldn’t trust these enchanted antiques… they could be leading him down to the beast to get slaughtered, or eaten, or incinerated, or buried alive, or-

“We are not taking you out to kill you, cher,” Laf smirked, hopping forward and lighting up the dark hallway, “We simply wish to feed you.”

“Feed me?” Alex looked around. “But the beast said-"

“John doesn’t have to know,” Eliza said softly, rubbing against Alex’s ankle, and Alex began to grin as he was led into another dark room.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asked, yawning.

“Since yesterday,” Burr said, looking around nervously, “Listen, I really don’t think we should be-“

“I just slept through an entire day?!” Alex balked, Eliza nuzzled him again affectionately.

“You’re tired, sweetheart. And probably very hungry, by now.”

Well, yes. He certainly was.

Alex could tell the dining room was large, and wasn’t disappointed when Laf lit the line of candles, the chandelier raising on its own to light up the grand, golden dining room. Everything was covered in red velvet and made of rich oak, and the walls were lined with gold. Burr got on the table, preparing the napkins.

“If we’re going to be rebellious here, we’re going to do it right,” he was muttering, and Alex admired the cutlery in front of him. He never would’ve eaten like this in a million years in town- not that he blamed his father for that, but this… this was fit for a prince.

Only fitting. John _was_ a prince.

“Ma cher monsieur… it is with greatest pride, and greatest pleasure, that we welcome you to our castle. Now, we invite you to relax… let us pull up a chair… as the dining room proudly presents,” Laf winked. “Your dinner.”

Alex gasped as the lights dimmed, and Laf put a little plate over his head, smiling and striking a pose. “Be our guest, mon ami. We will make sure you have only the finest meal with the finest entertainment. Isn’t that right, Burr?”

“Sure,” Burr nodded, turning around anxiously every so often to check for John, “You are in the room where it happens, Alexander. _Lafayette_ , be quiet!”

“Oui oui, Burr, in a second. Oh, and Alex?” Laf asked.

“Mm?” Alex looked up from the menu in awe, already ready to devour everything on it.

“Try the grey stuff- it’s delicious.”

“Will do,” Alex mumbled, swallowing.

The dinner was grand. Alex ate and drank until he couldn’t move, Laf and Burr put on quite the show that was louder than it should have been, and Eliza made sure the dishes were spotless once everything was clean, leaving no trace of their night.

The night wasn’t over yet- Alexander wanted a proper tour of the castle.


	5. IV

“And over here, we have the study,” Laf pointed out as they led Alex on a tour of the castle.

“And ballroom one, where Eliza taught Philip how to play the piano,” Burr pointed out with a small smile. Alex remained amazed at the huge room, paintings of angels all over the ceiling.

“It’s beautiful,” he marvelled.

“We keep it quite clean,” another French voice came out of nowhere, and Alex turned to find- not to his surprise any longer- a feather duster, batting her eyelashes as she swept their way.

“Cherie,” Laf grinned at her, drawing her close with one brass arm, “Where _have_ you been?”

“Plucking my feathers for tonight,” she winked back.

“Alexander, this is Adrienne,” Burr coughed, “The maid who happens to work under me.” He gave her a warning look, but she just laughed.

“Oui,” she smiled, and Laf finally let her go with a little growl. Burr gave him a frown, and Laf shrugged.

“Hi,” Alex nodded, not sure if he should extend a hand to shake, or-

“Bonjour, monsieur,” she dusted off his shoes a little, “Bon chateau, non?”

“Oui, magnifique chateau,” Alex retorted, as all the objects turned to him in shock.

“You can speak my mother tongue?!” Laf asked excitedly, “Zut, why did you not say so sooner?!”

“Let’s continue the tour, before you two start talking about baguettes,” Burr grumbled, and Laf knocked the back of his wooden head, nearly catching him on fire.

“That is not what I talk about.”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m American.”

“You are the _worst_ , Burr, that’s what you are.”

The group walked further down the large halls, carpet beneath them just as beautiful as everything else.

“Aaron!” somebody called, and the clock suddenly went beet red.

“Oh…”

“My love!” a fluffy blanket swept over, wrapping itself around Burr. After a second, she smiled, and left the embrace.

“Theodosia,” Burr blushed, kissing her back, “My beauty.”

“Oh, now _this_ is adorable,” Alex grinned.

Burr looked up at him and snarled, but Theo just swatted him lightly. “Be nice to our guest. Hello, sir- won’t you introduce us, Aaron?”

“This is Theodosia,” Burr smiled timidly, looking up, “She’s my wife.”

“The only time he doesn’t act like an ass is around her,” Laf whispered to Alex, and Burr blew out his candles.

“Aaaas I was saying, mon ami, huge gardens, huge library, huge ballrooms, and you can go into every single one of them!”

“Except the west wing,” Burr mentioned, and Laf smacked him again.

“Shut your smug face!”

Burr began to backtrack. “What I meant to say, was… there is no west wing!”

“Exactly,” Laf nodded.

“None at all,” Theo added nervously.

“Really?” Alex wondered, watching the fidgety objects.

“Cross my heart,” Burr swallowed.

“Now, let’s get on to the east wing, Alexander,” Laf chuckled weakly, “Or as I like to call it, the _only_ wing!”

As the group went on, Alex stopped in his tracks, watching as Lafayette, Aaron, and Eliza all kept going, babbling about the castle to someone who wasn’t really listening. He turned back, curiosity peaked- he had to find this west wing.

Sneaking through the castle back where he came swiftly so he wouldn’t get lost, Alex saw two staircases, one leading to the left, and one leading to the right. He could already hear voices in the right one, which means Laf had taken them a long way into the east wing. Alex smirked.

_That meant the west wing had to be…_

“Right this way,” Alex murmured to himself, hopping the steps and walking through the tattered curtains. The walls were peeling, and there were dead leaves and snow blown in from inside on the floor as he got deeper. Soon, he came to a large room with furniture toppled, paintings hanging crooked, and curtains fluttering open. Alex inspected one painting closely, narrowing his eyes, and saw three claw marks running through the portrait of a young man. He looked a little closer, and immediately recognized the amber eyes he had seen on the beast, which were the only discernable feature in the destroyed painting.

“Nah,” Alex muttered in disbelief, righting the painting for better sight. It was John, from what he could tell. He had curly hair, freckles all over his face, and a straight posture. He was… ridiculously handsome, based on what he could see through the rips- which wasn't very much at all. Alex let out a frustrated noise- he wanted desperately to see what John used to look like, but it was no use. There was nothing in here but darkness and ruin.

Just as Alex was about to turn reluctantly and leave, he heard a noise behind, as if a soft, lulling voice was calling out to him to stay. He turned, and gasped as he saw a single red rose, floating over a table. It was on a balcony, snow falling in a bubble around it; it shimmered, and was surrounded by a pile of withered up, black petals. Alex approached- this was more beautiful than anything he had seen that night… Prince Laurens exempt.

“Wow,” Alex whispered, about to feel a petal, but a loud slamming sound startled him.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?!” John yelled, rushing over. Alex backed up against the balcony rails as John grabbed him by the shoulders; the snarl of his fangs were nothing like the lopsided smile in the portrait, that was certain.

“I was just looking around,” Alex snapped back, though fear coursed through him at the anger in John’s eyes. He was on the very edge of the railing, and it was a long way down…

“What did you do to it?!” John roared, looking down at the rose. Alex put up his hands.

“I didn’t even touch it, I-“

“Get out!” John shouted, shoving Alex out of the way, “Get out of this wing!!”

Alex scrambled back, running as fast as he could, and kept running until he reached the front door. There was no way he was staying here- hospitality or none, promise or no promise. Laf and Burr had emerged at the commotion, and were now chasing Alex.

“Wait!”

“Alexander, do not go!”

“Don’t let him-“

Alex pushed the huge doors open, rushing out into the cold with freedom in his mind’s eye and leaving the antiques to deflate.

“No,” little Philip whimpered, snuggling into Eliza.

Alex kept running until he reached an icy pond. If this was the right way back, he couldn’t tell, as it had been dark when he came with Nelson, but one more thing he didn’t know was if John would follow him. Eventually deciding to take his chances he realized he couldn’t throw away his shot at escaping, so he padded out carefully onto the ice… then he heard it.

The growling.

“Damn, you are tenacious, I’ll give you that,” Alex goaded, beginning to turn around with a sigh, “You’re even worse than Thomas Jeffer…” The young man trailed off as he caught sight of just what had been growling at him.

It wasn’t John.

“Oh,” Alex nodded, backing away slowly. There were three wolves, circling him with bared teeth. _Maybe it would have been safer to wait until morning to make a daring escape._

Back at the castle, John was pacing the foyer, conflicted.

“The wolves, John!” Laf was insisting desperately, “They will get to him!”

“Let them,” John bit.

“You know you do not mean that!” the candelabra cried.

“Alexander made his bed, now he’ll lie in it.”

“So it was Alexander’s voice we heard shouting from the west wing?” Eliza demanded, boldly standing up to the beast.

“Why was he in my wing in the first place?!” John boomed.

Silence befell the servants. “Please,” Philip suddenly came forward, downtrodden, “Please, Mr. Laurens, sir, I like Mr. Alex.”

“Off to bed, Philip,” Eliza hushed, perplexed herself, but John’s face softened. He didn’t really mean what he said, did he? Alex’s defiant eyes and angry, scrunched up nose came to mind, and he couldn’t begin to ignore the ache in his heart.

No. No, he didn’t mean it.

Alex grabbed a large stick, holding it in front of him. “One shot to live another day,” he whispered to himself, as a pep talk of sorts, “I cannot let these damn wolves get in my way.” Another one growled again, and snapped at the stick. Alex managed to beat it off, but another came behind him, and got ready to pounce. He knew he was surrounded. There was nothing he could do, now. He had made a stupid mistake, and now he would never get to see Washington again because Washington would never see him again except in a body bag… if anyone even found his body once it was torn to shreds.

Just as the wolf right in front of Alex prepared to jump, a huge, dark form tackled it to the ice, rolling over to toss it away. The wolf whimpered and ran, but the two others ganged up on what Alex realized was the beast, and began to tear at him.

Alex tried to get them off with his stick, but John took care of it, grabbing the two wolves and shoving them off. Before he could take care of them for good, though, one bit into the beast's shoulder, drawing a startling amount of blood. John tossed the animals against a tree, and they ran off whining. Alex stared at John, who stared right back... before swaying, and falling over.

The young man felt relief wash over him, and turned to see the opening on the other side of the pond through the branches... freedom.

But...

He turned back, looking at the beast's body heaving up and down slowly, facing away from him. John's body.

Alex moaned, and walked over, patting his blue, now bloodstained coat. "You're gonna have to help me here- you're gonna have to stand for me."

As soon as they returned to the castle, the antiques' surprise at Alexander's return was quickly replaced by panic and concern for John and his rapidly infecting wound- thankfully, Alex knew how to take care of these things, as his father had taught him a few emergency first aid tricks from the war. He set the beast down right by the large parlor fireplace.

"I need a warm cloth, now," he told Eliza, and she immediately nodded, dutifully scrunching her nose up and bubbling the water inside her light blue and white pot. Laf came over and gently began to warm her with his flames, and soon, the hot water was ready as Burr came rushing back with towels bigger than him, Angelica hopping in tow.

"Good," Alex muttered, "Thanks." He had already gotten to work on removing John's jacket, which was matter to his fur with dried blood. More gushed out as he ripped it off, and John howled in agony, swearing loudly.

"Well, would you like to die?" Alex asked plainly, and John gave him a scathing look.

"I could have asked you the same," he coughed out, wincing as Alex held the towel on his bite. Alex stayed quiet at this, and began to wash the wound properly until he was sure he had dispelled any possibility of infection. Alex found himself dragging the towel over John's fur slowly, almost as if he cared about him.

_Did he?_

Why _should_ he?

John tried his best to look as miserable as he could. He couldn't look as if he was enjoying this- which, for the record, he entirely was. He hadn't felt a guy's hands on him like this for too long, and this... _Alex_ , was...

"Thank you," John grumbled out, lowering his tone petulantly. Burr and Laf gave him incredibly disapproving looks, so he rolled his eyes. "Thank you very much," he corrected, as sweetly as he could, and Alex looked into his eyes apprehensively, shrugging.

"Right. Yeah, sure. No big deal- you saved my life and all, kinda figured... y'know, uh... I should help you... and stuff."

"Yeah, uh huh."

"Yeah..."

They kept staring at each other, the light of the fire dancing in their eyes. The beast didn’t look… altogether too frightening anymore, examined up close. Alexander cleared his throat, frowning. "Someone get him to a bed."

With that, the young man walked back up to his tower room... which remained curiously unlocked.


	6. V

The next day, something had changed- it was ever so slight, but it was a change, nonetheless, and everyone felt it. John wasn’t as moody, and Alex… well, neither was Alex.

“Breakfast?” Eliza smiled, coming in to wake him. Alexander roused, opening his eyes. It was still dark, despite it being morning- everything in this godforsaken castle was- but Alex could feel the lifted spirits of everyone.

“Is he okay?” he asked, sitting up.

Eliza seemed surprised. “Well… yes, he is. He’s in some pain, and he’s dramatic about it all, but he’ll be alright.”

Alex nodded, biting his lip. Accepting the tea gratefully, he took a sip and said good morning to Philip as well.

“It’s cool you decided to stay, Alex,” the little chipped cup grinned, “I’m glad you did.” Alex couldn’t help but smile.

“I guess I’m glad I did too, Philip.”

Every day, Alex began to nurse John back to health- in as close proximity as John would allow without screaming and complaining about the pain. Eventually, the wound really began to heal, and Alex convinced John it would be beneficial if they started going for walks. 

“Look at them, Burr,” Laf whispered to the clock as they watched Alex help John into his jacket from the hallway, “We didn’t even have to offer that idea ourselves.” They started up the long, winding staircase to the North tower.

“Maybe…” Burr started hopefully.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Angelica remarked, as they passed Alex’s room. The book poked her head out the door. “I’ve been living with Alex in this room- he’s a powder keg about to explode.”

Herc chimed in, opening his doors. “And we all know John, he’s pretty much the same.”

“A match made in the stars,” Laf grumbled.

“I don’t know,” Eliza said softly, gazing out the window to look down on the gardens, “They look pretty cozy to me.”

“There must be something there that was not there before,” Lafayette smiled, resting his head against the teapot’s.

Down, walking through the snow, Alex pulled his cloak tighter to himself.

“There, does that hurt when you walk?” he asked, and John shook his head. “See? Already getting better.”

“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a child,” John muttered.

“I’m being nice, this is what being nice looks like!”

“You’re being patronizing.”

“You obviously don’t know kindness when you see it. You probably weren’t shown a lot of it when you were a child, growing up in a cold dump like this!” Alex snapped, and John didn’t respond. Alex looked up again, noticing the hurt in his face. “Sorry, I…” he started, shaking his head, “Sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about bad childhoods when mine was…” He stared off. “Fuck, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” John growled, but his voice was a little softer this time.

“I, um, don’t think this castle is a dump, either. It’s actually really beautiful.” He was quiet for a second, then scoffed softly. “Look, you’re still rude as fuck, though. You need to learn how to treat me with respect, respect I deserve.”

“You _deserve_?” John’s fur bristled up, “ _You_ trespassed in my castle!”

“To get my father back!”

“He shouldn’t have been here in the first place!”

“He was sick and injured, you’re an asshole.”

“Yeah? So are you!”

“At least I own up to it!”

“I saved your life!”

“I saved yours!”

The two glared at each other until John whipped around, grabbing a handful of snow, balling it up, tossing it and-

“Oh, shit,” the beast whispered, watching as his monster snowball slammed Alex in the face so hard he toppled right over. “Shit, I didn’t think it would be that big…”

Alex lay there in the snow, eyes closed, and John began to worry. Sometimes he forgot how strong he had become, and… and he wasn’t used to talking to cute guys like Alex, and…

“Alex? Wake up,” John knelt down, shaking his shoulders and trying to be careful so his claws wouldn’t pierce the young man’s flesh. “Alex!”

Suddenly, Alex’s eyes flew open, and he knocked John’s knees out from under him, flipping them so he was on top. He grabbed some snow, and dropped an armful over John’s face.

“HA!” Alex shouted, jumping up.

“Man,” John groaned, getting up as well.

“Didn’t think it was that big, huh?!” Alex smirked, “That’s a common reaction in my case, Laurens.”

“Shut up,” John muttered, and turned. Alex’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the beast’s face- he looked like a yeti covered in snow.

“Fuck, this is funny.”

“No, it’s-"

“You should look at yourself in a mirror, seriously-"

“I try to avoid those, in general.”

“What a spectacle.”

“People used to say that when they saw me walk into a ballroom,” John complained wistfully, and Alex chuckled.

“I’m sure they did, your Highness.”

They both began to laugh until they couldn’t stop. _Your Highness._ John doubted he’d ever hear that title again.

“I bet everyone wanted to dance with you, too… probably marry you, huh?”

John looked up at that, and suddenly, all he could see was Alex’s striking features, standing out against the crisp white snow all around them. His dark, playful eyes with laugh lines already ingrained despite his youth, the stubborn set of his jaw, the stubble of his goatee, the green of his cloak…

“…Until they really got to know you, and realized what a shit temper you’ve got, then said fuck this, I value my peace and quiet over this motherfucker.”

John frowned dejectedly, and Alex continued to laugh.

“I was a perfect joy at balls,” the beast said dejectedly, and looked around conspiratorially. “Alex, they won’t tell you this in fear of pissin’ me off, but… Laf, Herc, Eliza, Angie, all them? They had to reign me in at the parties I threw, hold my hair when I threw up, too. I got lit!”

“You.”

“Yeah!”

“What kind of drunk were you?”

“Loud and obnoxious.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Hey,” John said softly, brushing the rest of the snow off of himself. “Follow me.”

Alex frowned, but followed the beast until they were inside the castle again. As Alexander hesitated, John turned, and beckoned him to keep going. Soon, they were in a part of the castle Alex didn’t recognize, and though he was apprehensive, he was excited to discover new rooms in this vast old structure.

“Okay, uh…” John shuffled his feet, “Close your eyes.”

“Close my eyes?” Alex put his hands up, “Um…”

“Just do it, Alex.”

Alex smirked a little, and closed his eyes as he felt John’s paws on his back, leading him into a room. After a second, John told him to open his eyes.

“Holy…” Alex started as he gawked around in awe, and John smiled a little.

“Y’like it?”

Alex looked around, behind him, beside him, over him. Row after row of books lined the walls, with ladders to reach all of them.

“We have everything, from stories, to Shakespeare, to treatises-"

“You’ve got treatises?” Alex asked excitedly, bouncing up and down, "You got the Second Treatise of Government? That's my favourite, I've read it 16 times. I don’t necessarily agree with John Locke’s ideas of a republic state, but he’s everything we’ve built upon since, politically!" John laughed a little at Alexander’s raving; politics never really was his forte.

“Yeah, well. You name it, we got it.”

“Shit, you really are rich.”

“Hey- pays to be a prince. Or, y’know, it did.”

“So… you actually read?” Alex asked, and John scrunched up his nose, offended.

“The fuck kind of question is that? I’m not illiterate.”

“Sorry,” Alex murmured, taking a very old, cared-for book off the shelves and turning it over fondly in his hands, “The town down there I come from’s full of… idiots.”

“I get that,” John nodded, “But yeah, I know some stuff. I had an expensive education.”

“I wrote my way out-- taught myself,” Alex said absently, noticing an empty journal on a stack of atlases. John’s eyes widened. “Helps that the guy who saved me when I came ashore is the one literate man in town… well, other than-" His face darkened as he trailed off. He didn’t even want to say the dick’s name here.

“You came ashore?” John asked.

Alex turned slightly. “Um… my parents were killed in a hurricane. I’m from an island, a long way from here, and uh… when I turned up, I was half dead. George Washington took me in, called me his own. All he really had before a son was his horse, Nelson, since his wife died after years of not being able to have one. He’s been kind to me, and…” Alex slotted the book back in. “He’s believed in me.”

John felt the guilt churn in his stomach. “I’m sorry I locked your father up. He sounds like a good man- much better than my old man was.”

Alex looked at him, gave him a small, sad smile. “Thanks for showing me the library.”

That night, after Alex made sure Angelica was sleeping, he pulled out the journal he had found, and took out a quill from the table, opening to the first page.

 _There’s something sweet…_ he wrote out, _and almost kind about him._ _But he was so rude, and rough, and unrefined!_ _Now, he just seems… unsure. I wonder why I didn’t see it until now._

John sat by the fireplace in the west wing, a fist under his chin as he thought to himself _. Alex looked at me today… I thought I saw. He didn’t even flinch away from my paw! I can’t be right… it’s impossible. Then again…_ the beast glanced over at the rose, another petal drifting down, _he’s never looked at me that way before._

As days flew by, Alex began to read the treatises to John. He would read treatises of government, he would write some, and he would read John some Shakespeare as well.

“I love Romeo and Juliet…” John said one day, “Yo, read something from that?”

Alex scoffed, closing the book for a second to stop on the drawbridge. They overlooked a beautiful frozen lake, shining with icicles on branches and glints of the melting waterfalls.

“This was a really nice place before the curse, wasn’t it?” Alex suddenly murmured, looking over to the black turrets and dark skies.

John nodded, thinking back to the gold and cream and beautiful angel sculptures.

“Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean,” Alex interrupted his thoughts by beginning with a smirk, and John chuckled, resting against the frozen railing to listen intently.

“Ah, this is wonderful,” Laf smiled, “The spell is sure to be broken, mes amis!”

“This calls for a drink,” Herc grinned, “Uh… when we’re human again.”

“Oh, to be human again,” Eliza sighed.

“I can sew again,” Herc grinned.

“I can fuck my way around the castle again,” Laf smirked, winking at the wardrobe, and Hercules winked back as Burr dry heaved.

“I can’t wait to be able to dance again,” Angelica murmured, and Eliza cuddled up to her sister.

“It’s only a matter of time!”

Wind whistled through the wintery trees outside. “I saw you writing,” John said, down on their walk.

“Yeah. I’m a writer,” Alex laughed.

“You looked super into it,” John added. Alex skirted around the topic, thinking back to what he had been writing in the journal.

“Anyway, next is Hamlet! Yay, Hamlet!”

“Alex?” John asked, and pulled out the journal.

“You took my journal?!” Alex shouted.

“Laf told me you probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but Burr told me it was probably a window into your soul.”

“Burr,” Alex growled, thinking of the stingy clock, “Selfish prick.”

“You write letters to me?”

“I-"

“ _My dearest Laurens- cold in my profession, warm in my affections_ -"

“Okay!” Alex let out a frustrated sigh, snatching the book back. The air left his body as he sagged. “Sure, I… write some stupid shit about you, sometimes, when I'm so bored I could die. But it’s not… it doesn’t mean…”

“Hey, Alex?” John smiled.

“What?” Alex snapped.

“You’re a good writer.”

“Yes, I know-"

“Do you wanna have dinner with me tonight?”

“With you, or the charming French candlestick who last threw me a banquet?”

John laughed. “Me. Only me.”

“That… would be nice,” Alex managed, taking John’s outstretched paw.

Even as the delight bloomed in Alex’s chest and the nervous butterflies began, the familiar ache of missing his father returned. He wondered how he was doing back in town, all alone.

* * *

Washington sat down in his armchair with a bowl of soup, looking outside to where his horse was chained just by his small cottage. This was awful- just like when Martha died. He had tried to busy himself with politics, but the truth was, he barely even wanted to be mayor now; he had simply stepped up to the plate to take the responsibility. He had to admit, he had selfish reasons for missing Alexander… he was lonely- he missed the companionship and conversation, the endless excitable chatter and debate his son provided him with. He cared so much for the boy’s safety, and he had no way of telling if Alex was alright, or dead, or…

George rubbed his temples, exhaling softly. He had even tried making the trek back to the castle, but it was as if the pathway had been swallowed up by the forest; he couldn’t find it, as hard as he tried, it was as if it didn’t exist.

Jefferson wouldn’t help him- Alex had been right, as ever, about that man’s true colours- the townspeople all thought he was crazy… surely, a military commander of his esteem would be able to find some way of rescuing his son from danger?

He’d be damned if he didn’t find one.

* * *

“John,” Thomas grinned, “Old friend. I feel like I haven’t had a good drink with you in years.”

“That’s because it has been years, Thomas,” Adams smiled back, the much older man taking a sip from his mug. Thomas set down his walking stick, resting it against the secretive back table they had reserved at the back of the tavern. “What do you need?”

“Well, I want to know what you’ve been up to!”

“Come, Thomas,” Adams chuckled, “I know you better than your little cohort Madison does. You wouldn’t have asked me here to simply drink with me.”

Thomas smiled back. “Alright, sugar. I want to seal the deal with Alexander, and I need your help. You still run that asylum?”

“Yes,” Adams said slowly.

“The entire town knows George is off his rocker. See, John- Alex is on Washington’s side, and if I threaten to lock his daddy up, imagine what he’d do for me.”

Adams sat forward. “While I… can’t say I share your fondness for the young bastard, I can say that I share your distaste for Washington. The man has been standing in my way for years.”

“So?”

“So… what’s in it for me?”

“Everything, Johnny boy. You’ll be on my ticket.”

John’s eyes widened. “You’ll be elected mayor once Washington’s… hmm, yes.”

“Sharp as ever, I see,” Thomas smiled.

“Well, old minds are like old horses, Thomas; you must exercise them if you wish to keep them in working order.” He marveled at this, taking another drink. “And what of me, then?”

“My second.”

“Mmmm,” John nodded, picturing the power they would finally have- the power they deserved. "All for that wretched Hamilton?"

"Love is love, Johnny. So whaddya think?”

“It’s deplorable,” John muttered, shaking his head. Then he set his mug down on the table hard. “I love it.”

Thomas gave a wicked laugh, and shook hands with his old friend.

“Give my regards to Abigail,” he smirked, and Adams chuckled, tipping his hat.


	7. VI

Alex groaned as he let Herc get him ready for the evening, the wardrobe tugging a brush through his tangled hair. Eliza, Adrienne, and Theodosia watched, offering rarely warranted comments on his appearance.

“You haven’t washed your hair in days!”

“Look at your beard… needs a good trim.”

“Darling, you really should hydrate more.”

Alex rolled his eyes, letting out a huff. “Are we done yet, Herc?”

“It takes time to perfect a masterpiece,” Herc replied calmly, “It’s art, my man.”

“He’s very serious about this stuff,” Eliza whispered, and Herc finally got rid of the last knot.

“Alright, time for my favourite part! _Clothing_.”

Over in the opposite wing, John was getting ready with the help of his other servants.

"It will be ready in a moment, sir," one coat hanger informed him, and began to do his hair up in curlers and apply makeup to his face. When he finally turned to look in the mirror, John actually jumped.

"What the fuck is that?"

"Your face," Angelica snorted, giggling at the mound of curls on the top of his head and ridiculous red lips.

"One more try," the coat hanger winced, and turned the beast back around.

Soon, it was time. John went to the ballroom, dressed in a handsome dark mauve coat and a crisp white cravat. Beyond excited to see what Alex looked like tonight, he waited.

"I don't know if I can do this," Alex told everyone, "I just... I probably look like crap, and John-"

"John does not deserve you," Eliza assured him, and they all nudged him out of the wing and to the top of the staircase. John looked away from the snowflakes falling by the window, and his breath was stolen.

"Mr. Laurens," Alex nodded, descending the steps. He had on the deep green satin suit, with black pants, a white silky cravat, and his black hair had been styled back so that it fell over his shoulders.

"You look..." John whispered as Alex approached him, but he was at a loss for words.

"You look even better," Alex teased, and took his arm, leading them both out to the dance floor. Alex, evidently, knew nothing about dancing, so John led, whisking them both across the ballroom floor to the soft music the instruments played for them. Before long, the crowd of servants began to gather and watch the romantic dance. Burr began to speak.

"1780, a winter's ball, and Alexander Hamilton's the envy of all- yo, if he could marry a prince, well for us-"

"That'd be enough," Eliza added.

"Is it a question of prince, Burr, or true love?" Angelica sighed, and they all hummed along, watching the two slow the pace down, gazing into each other's eyes. Their bodies moved in tandem, but their thoughts couldn't be more different.

John's mind was blank. He couldn't focus on anything but Alex's face, staring up at him more bashfully than he had ever. The green brought out his eyes, and really... he never thought this was possible.

Of course, Alex's mind never stopped racing, so a billion thoughts were flying through his head. Asking himself why he liked John, asking himself what kept him there- he escaped once, he could most likely do it again. But the truth was, he liked it here. The provincial town he came from- sure, it was quaint, and his father lived there. But this was the adventure he had always wanted, and he was slowly falling in love with a beast.

An actual beast.

Named John Laurens.

* * *

Washington heard a knock at his door, and rose from his armchair to get it. It was strangely late... unless someone had come to him with a development on Alexander's whereabouts, or it was Alex himself! George unlocked it as quickly as he could, and paused when he saw who it was.

"Jefferson," he nodded, "I would invite you in, but it's late."

"That it is, sir," Thomas nodded, pattering his nails thoughtfully against the doorframe. "Damn, it must get chilly in this old, battered up cabin of yours."

"It does me just fine, but I appreciate your concern," Washington frowned, already inching the door closed.

" _Does_ it, though?" Thomas asked, slamming the door all the way open as he forced his way inside. "You know sir, I only care about what's best for my dear future father-in-law, and we can't have you dyin' of the chill, now can we?" Washington was surprised to see a crowd gathering at his door, and even more so when John Adams came up the steps.

"Let's get you somewhere _warmer_ , Mr. Washington," Adams said, and Washington struggled as two men grabbed his arms, forcing him down the steps and into the crowd with the wagon toward town.

“You can’t do this!” the muscular man shouted, and easily fought them off, but the villagers were prepared for that; four more set upon him.

"Ahhh," Thomas sighed, kicking back his feet and once again stealing George's chair in the little cottage, "Hamilton, here I come."

* * *

After their dance was over, John led Alex out to the balcony, sighing in bliss.

"Alex, this was the best night I've had in... a long time," John smiled, taking his hand again. Alex smirked back.

"And you weren't shit faced drunk, so you'll actually remember it this time."

"Double bonus," John laughed with him, and the two quieted, staring out at the dark trees that stretched for miles beyond the castle grounds. It was a still night; oddly calm, the moon shrouded by clouds. "Ready for dinner?"

"Yeah," Alex murmured, smiling. He suddenly thought of something, and pulled a pin out of John's hair from the top, watching as some of his curls tumbled down over his fur. Alex longed to see what those curls would look down falling over freckled skin.

"Alexander..." John began, fiddling with a button on his coat, "Do you... like it here? I mean... I know I'm an asshole, but even so, you stayed that night, and... it seems to me like you've been smiling a lot more since."

"I enjoy it more than I thought I would, yes," Alex nodded, "But..."

"But?" John worried.

"But," Alex took a breath, "I'm still technically a prisoner, John. Can anyone truly be happy as a prisoner?"

"Are you... doing all this, because you think I'll toss you off the side of the castle if you don't?" John began to panic. He knew what he had initially threatened, but they had come to an understanding, hadn't they?

"No," Alex assured with a fond smile, "No, of course not. You're different, John, I can see that. I don’t know…”

"You still miss your dad," the beast mumbled, looking down.

"Yeah," Alex breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

"Maybe you’d like to see him?" John offered, and when Alex's eyes lit up even more, he led the young man to the magic mirror he kept. "Show me Alexander's father," he said with that side smile, and Alex took the mirror gratefully. Expecting to look in and see his father sleeping or hard at work on a new law, Alex smiled down at the mirror- only to become horrified.

"Oh my god."

"What?" John asked, a frown starting to set in, "What is it?"

"He's being taken away," Alex murmured. John's brows knit, as he contemplated everything. They had just had the most romantic night ever- was he willing to throw away his shot of lifting the spell?

"Go to him," John whispered, and Alex looked up, pausing.

"What?"

"Go to your dad," the beast nodded, and took Alex's hand in his. "Keep the mirror, Alex... in case you ever wanna remember me or the guys back here."

Alex's eyes brimmed with tears, but he knew what he had to do. The antiques watched as Alexander left the castle, watched him run the way he came. Upstairs, Burr waddled in beside John, happy as can be.

"This is great, John. Just great- you were able to quell your temper, and now it looks like we'll-" He blinked expectantly, looking around. "Where's Alexander?"

"I set him free," John mumbled, eyes remaining trained on the fading figure of Alex in the forest.

"Pardon me?" Aaron smiled tightly, coming closer.

"I set him free!" the beast growled, "His father was in trouble. He needed to be with him, and frankly, Burr, he can't love me back if he's my prisoner."

"Well... he can't love you back now, period," the clock shook his head, turning away to glance as the second last petal fell. "And now, it looks like no one ever will."

John felt a single tear roll down his cheek. He had let everyone in this castle down- but keeping Alex there would have been cruel, even for him.

"At least I can fool myself into thinking he'll come back," John smiled sadly to himself, "And be with me, for evermore."

* * *

Alex raced into town, pushing his way through the mob of villagers gathered in the town square.

"Pops!"

"Alexander!" Washington exclaimed, but when he tried to rush forward, he was thrown into a cart marked 'asylum'.

"Let him go!" Alex shouted angrily, then suddenly felt two hands on his shoulders.

"My my, you're back, lamb!" Thomas grinned, "Did you have fun with the beast out there in your little enchanted castle? What kind of things did you get up to there, enchanted tea parties?"

"Jefferson," Alex breathed, relieved to see him for once, to see someone who was on his side. "You know my father's not crazy. Tell them!"

Thomas stared for a moment, then inspected his nails. "Well... I don't know for _sure_. I mean, he did come in ranting and raving about a big monster that kidnapped you- yet, here you are, looking just as nice as ever."

Alex's face had contorted, his fists balled. "You fucking bastard," he muttered, and threw a punch. Thomas caught Alexander's fist midair, and chuckled.

"Honey, calm down," he smiled condescendingly, "Where have you actually been?"

"I was at a castle," Alexander explained, "A prince named John Laurens was turned into a beast, and I switched places with my dad to save him."

“I don’t remember any prince,” Monroe spoke up, “Or castle, for that matter!”

“The enchantment removed it from your memories,” Alex explained, “As far as you know, none of them ever existed.”

"Whaaaaat?" Thomas deadpanned, but Alex cut him off.

"He's not mean, or ugly. He's kind, gentle... he's changed!"

"What?" Washington murmured, frowning at his son from the cart.

"My god, you've lost it too," Thomas shook his head, and sighed, rolling his eyes. "Look, no need for the theatrics. There is one way you can save Washington, and one way only."

"What is it?"

Thomas shrugged, shooting a look over to Adams. "Quite simple, really. Marry me." Alex stared, and Thomas went on. "It's the best option, y'see. I finally get what I deserve- the only man in town as beautiful as me- and you, my sugar pie, get the privilege of waking up to see my gorgeous face every day! Everyone wins."

At this, Alex laughed in the taller man's face.

"Give it up. If you think I'm going to proclaim my _love_ for you, Thomas, you're the one who should be locked up in an asylum. I know you interpret the word “no” as “not right now”, but I couldn’t loathe you more. You've never been as great as everyone tells you- they're just kissing your ass because you helped found this town with my father!"

Thomas' smirk turned into a cruel scowl as he grabbed Alex by the shirt collar, pulling him in close as if to strangle him. Then Alex held up the mirror. "Do you want to see the beast or not?"

Thomas let go of him, and watched Alex closely as the smaller man held up the mirror he had been holding. "Show me John," he told it, and the mirror flashed blue. In a second, the reflection was that of a hairy creature, staring out into the sky from a dark tower, tears rolling down his cheeks. Alex almost gasped seeing John like this, his heart breaking... did he really care this much for him?

"It's hideous!" Thomas cried, backing away, "Did you see the fangs on the damn thing?" The villagers all began to murmur and nod, as Thomas continued to rouse them. "It's dangerous!"

"He's not dangerous at all," Alex shouted back, trying to reassure everyone, "L-like I said, he's kind, he's a _good_ person, and I-"

“They’re not listening,” George told him.

“But-"

“Alex, listen. There’s only one way for you to win this. Don’t engage.”

Alexander knew what his father was saying- let Thomas cool down, and go to the castle himself. But-

"I care about him!” Alexander couldn’t help but shout.

"Oh, see what this creature's done to our poor, impressionable Alexander?!" Thomas shouted out to the crowd of townspeople, "Black magic, I say! He's put some sorta spell on Alex!"

"No, you're twisting my-" Alex spat angrily.

"I say we're not safe with that thing roaming our forests!" Thomas continued to shout, and now, villagers were joining in. Alex looked around in a panic as people began to grab torches and pitchforks. "Something's gotta be done about this," Thomas told everyone, grabbing his own torch and standing on a barrel.

"Wait! Please, don't do this, Jefferson," Alex resorted to begging, grabbing Thomas' arm.

"Just say the word, Alexander, and we'll go home right now," Thomas told him, raising his eyebrows earnestly. Alex felt fire eat his insides, unable to hold back.

"Fuck you."

Thomas' hopeful gaze soured, and he shoved Alex away roughly. "Fine. Don't say I never gave you a second chance, though, when you're rotting away with your father and I've got that beast's _hide_ draped over my chair!" He tossed Alex aside to the villagers, who then stuck him in the cart with father and locked it up, their protests ignored. James watched Thomas, saw his anger swell, and started to speak up, gazing at the cart. He knew Alex was innocent- he knew Thomas knew Alex was innocent, George too, for that matter. They didn't deserve this, and his friend was losing himself. Before James could say anything to him, though, to talk some sense back into him before he did anything stupid, Thomas raised his torch, getting on his horse.

"Listen up!" he shouted, eyes wild with a rage James didn't recognize, and was frankly scared of. "We've gotta save our village from this monster! I say we _kill_ this beast!"

"Yeah!" everyone cried in a unison chorus of fear and hate, and James swallowed as he mounted his own horse.

"Well, Jemmy, it's finally come to this," Thomas mumbled as they rode at the head of the mob out of town. James looked over to see what his friend was talking about, and saw Thomas pull out his antique pistol and scowl. "I hate guns," the tall man sighed, and cocked it.

 _Sure, there may be a beast on the loose,_ James thought to himself, taking a deep breath, _but perhaps the wrong monster's been released._

Back in the cart, George pounded on the bars and the wooden panels, as Alex tried to feel for a trap door or something to let them out the bottom.

"It's no use," George sighed, collapsing back, "You ran your mouth, now we're stuck in here, just like you were stuck in that castle."

"I’m sorry… it seems getting captured is kinda our forte, huh?" Alex replied, and George let out the first genuine laugh he had in weeks. After a moment, he sobered, and remembered what his son had told everyone minutes earlier.

"Did you really mean what you said? About... that horrible beast? We’re talking about the same beast here, right?"

Alex looked up at Washington. "His name is John Laurens. He was a prince, and he was cursed to live like that as punishment for something he did when he was younger."

"I can't say I'm surprised, judging by that boy’s character," George scoffed, and Alex closed his eyes.

"That was a long time ago, and John's different now, like I tried to tell Thomas and all those _stupid_ villagers. Now they're off while I sit here twiddling my thumbs, about to kill the man I love."

Silence overtook them as Alex realized what he had said. George stared at him hard, then opened his mouth.

"Alex... are you feeling alright?"

"You didn't live with him," Alex insisted, shaking his head, "You don't know him like I do. Why would I lie to you about something like that?"

George nodded slowly. "I knew when I first met Martha. Everyone questioned me, but I knew. I’m not going to question you Alex- but if you're going to save John, we need to think of an alternative way out of here, fast."

Suddenly, an idea hit Alex, and he took the bobby pin John had in his fur earlier off of his sleeve. "It's a lock- and all locks open for something."

Not five minutes later, the door to the cart swung open, and Alex and George were hurrying out before John Adams came back to haul them away.

"Go get him, Alex," George called as Alex mounted an unattended horse, "I'm proud of you, son!"

Alex gave a small smile at this, and gave his father a quick nod before making off as fast as he could through the woods.


	8. VII

At the castle, John remained at the top of the highest tower, thinking of Alexander and moping. Had he stayed around, Alex would have brightened the place up with constant chatter and intelligent arguments John never used to make time for. In a way, Alex had taught him there was such thing as an adverse opinion, and it took more than just roaring at someone to change it. He suddenly narrowed his eyes as he saw little balls of light coming toward them through the trees.

"Oh," Eliza said downstairs, jumping up to the windowsill.

"I hear horses!" Angelica exclaimed.

"Could it be?!” Laf shrieked hopefully, dragging Burr with him to check, but what they found was far different than who they expected.

"Sweet Jesus," Burr whispered, and ran as fast as his stubby wooden legs would take him up the many stairs to warn John. When he got up there, out of breath, he just about collapsed.

"A mob," he breathed, "There's people here, Laurens!"

"I see 'em," John muttered, unmoving.

"I don't think you quite see what's about to happen," Burr nearly shouted, and John turned half-heartedly, not even enough energy to chastise Burr's tenacity.

"It's over," he whispered, and Burr hesitated. The Laurens he and everyone else in this castle knew would never resign himself to something like this; Burr finally began to realize how truly inconsolable the prince must be over Alexander's leaving.

"Sir," Burr nodded, and trudged sadly back down the steps. Just as he resigned himself to what was about to take place, he looked up to see Lafayette charging toward him, swinging along the wall sconces like a pirate.

"We will not give up without a fight, mon ami! This will be _just_ like the battle of Yorktown, in the war. What are we? We are loyal friends of John's, and will defend him as we defended our country those years ago!"

"We’re in the shit now," Hercules muttered, smashing his wooden fists together, "These ruffians don't stand a chance against us."

"I'd love to watch them all burn," Eliza added with a maniacal grin, and everyone turned to look at her.

"I was thinking more along the lines of scare them off, but you do you," Laf shrugged, and they all dispersed to ready themselves and the rest of the castle staff for battle. Eliza hurried Philip and the rest of her children into the cupboard, kissing each one.

“Stay here, all of you,” she said sternly, “Don’t make one move to come out.”

“What’s going on, mom?” Philip asked, nervously glancing around behind her. Eliza recognized his fear, and sighed gently.

“Count with me,” she said with a warm smile. Counting in french is what they would do during anything traumatic- Philip never liked thunderstorms, so when one would start, they would count.

“Un, deux, trois, quatre-" Philip counted right along with Eliza up to ten until he was calm once more, and she nodded, pushing the door closed with her handle and rejoining the others.

“Break it down!” Thomas called, and the villagers pounded the doors until they smashed open. The tall man grinned as he entered, opening his arms. “So what’d I miss?”

James flinched at Thomas’ nonchalance- this wouldn’t end well, and he knew it. He had known Thomas since they were children, and it never did end well when he wanted something he couldn't have... only this time the circumstances were deadly.

The castle was eerily quiet as they walked forward together, every creak or hollow whistle of wind in the old place sending the hairs on their necks standing. They crept through the foyer, staring around at all the idle objects just sitting around. It was a creepy place, especially in the dark.

"Are we not going to consider the fact that this place is probably haunted?" James coughed into his handkerchief, and Thomas hushed him.

"Don't lose your nerve, Jemmy." Thomas went all the way over to a table, and grabbed the candlestick.

"Come on out, beast!" he shouted, "We're waiting for you!"

"So are we," a voice said, and Thomas looked down at his hands in shock to see the candelabra grin.

"Bonjour. You have a nice firm grip, mon cher, and a nice voice. Are you French?"

"Oh," Thomas smiled, "Well, I did live in France for a couple of years, it's nice of you to-" Suddenly, it dawned on him what he was doing- talking to a candlestick. " _Gah_!" the southerner shouted, dropping Laf, and Angelica shouted, "NOW!!"

The entire place lit up as everything around the villagers began to move. Plates flung at people, smashing over them, the coat rack grabbed someone by the collar and tossed them.

"Everyone attack!" Thomas shouted, and Madison touched his arm.

"Thomas, perhaps you should-" James couldn't finish his sentence before Thomas shoved right past him, leaving him to face the angry harpsichord alone.

As Madison fended off the instrument, Charles Lee began to run back to the door. "Retreat!" he called, and Thomas yelled out his battle cry again, only to hear Lee's same expression of cowardice.

"What are you doing, Lee?!" he growled, "Back on your feet!"

"But t-there's so many of them," Lee shuddered, looking around, and Thomas glared.

"They're _domestic_ _objects_.”

Lee let out a whine, then got knocked out by a flying spoon. Thomas just rolled his eyes, stepping over the shoemaker's body.

"This is 'onarchy!" Lafayette cackled, burning two villagers at once in the ass and sending them running.

"Anarchy," Herc corrected, yanking someone over and tying them up with five pairs of pants.

"Oh, anarchy," Laf corrected himself, "Look at them- I make them all panicky!"

"Just stay alive!" Eliza warned everyone, and laughed as Angelica whacked someone upside the head. She then bubbled some scalding hot tea, pouring it over some poor guy, and with a delighted gasp, both sisters watched as their sister, Peggy- the hairbrush, who they hadn't been able to find since the first day of their curse- catapulted herself off a vanity and lodged into someone's eye. Theodosia surprised someone by fluttering up from her spot over a stool, rolled them up and unrolled them in her blanket, and send them stumbling over into another object's capable hands. As she looked around for her next victim, she gasped as she saw two villagers poking pitchforks at her beloved clock. Rushing over, she dropped over one's eyes, causing the two to bump into each other and for one to accidentally stab the other in the leg with a loud howl. Burr smiled gratefully at Theo, who helped him up.

Amidst the fighting, Thomas charged up the stairs in search of the his real pursuit. James tried to shout after him, attempting to discourage his friend from any brash action, but the tall man had his mind set. He found his way through some old curtains, and came to a room with balcony curtains floating open, a large figure sitting there.

"You must be John Laurens," Thomas drawled, "Pleasure." John turned, blinking in disinterest, so Thomas went on. "I've heard you've got a soft spot for Alexander... _my_ Alexander." At this, John did have something to say.

"If there's one thing I've learned, it's that Alexander doesn’t belong to anyone," he huffed, and Thomas smirked.

"Seems that way, doesn't it? Fiery little guy, stubbornly independent. Thing is, you and I want both love a challenge, don't we?"

John quietly observed him. "He's not a challenge. He's a person."

Thomas inclined an ear. "What was that, sugar?"

"You may see Alexander as a conquest. But I know what makes him happy... what makes him laugh... what pisses him off. I may not know him as well as I could, but I do know he'd never willingly go for someone like you."

"Rule number one of how to stay alive?" Thomas grinned, tucking his pistol behind his back, "Never insult an angry southern motherfucking democratic republican who's about to push you off a rooftop." John's brow furrowed, and Thomas kicked him out onto the balcony.

Downstairs, someone came rushing through the front door.

"Monsieur Hamilton!" Lafayette noticed, eyes lighting up.

"Monsieur Lafayette!" Alex replied, grinning down at the candlestick.

"Right back here where you belong!"

"I knew I needed to come back," Alex nodded, "Where's John?"

"Upstairs, mon ami," Laf called, dodging someone's bayonet.

Alex raced past the wreckage, and ran up to the tower, where he could already see an altercation taking place outside on the rooftops.

"John," he whispered, and raced out.

"He may never love me back," Thomas was sneering at John, kicking him over again, "But he'll sure never love you once I've got your head over my fireplace!" The beast gave a half-hearted growl, and rose, scratching Thomas across the face. The southerner held a hand to his face, admiring the blood he pulled away on his fingertips.

"Oh no," he taunted with a loud laugh, "Please- spare my life, I'm _beggin'_ you."

"Hey!"

Both the man and beast turned to see Alex standing on the balcony, desperately waving. John's spirits lifted. _He'd come back._ Just as John was smiling at Alex, Thomas took the opportunity to pull out his gun, and pull the trigger.

"No!" Alex screamed as John cried out, and Thomas laughed cruelly. John tried to get up, bleeding from his right leg, but Thomas kicked him again. "Laurens!" he called, and the sound of his name being called shook the beast back. He saw Alex standing there, waiting for him, and John knew what he had to do. Mustering all the courage he could, he stood, and grabbed Thomas by the neck; taken off guard, the southerner grasped at John's arms, suddenly alarmed as he felt his feet leave the ground. In seconds, he was being held by the neck over the dark chasm below the rooftops, struggling for air.

"P-please," he choked, real fear evident in his brown eyes, "Please, I'm sorry! Please... don't let me go.”

"Come on, drop the bastard!" Alex called, glaring at Jefferson then gesturing to the chasm below, but as John looked into Thomas' desperate eyes and felt the man's fingers clamber at his arm for his life, he felt himself soften. If he could find it within himself to love again, he could find it to let this coward run.

Dropping Thomas back on the rooftop, John quickly jumped over to the tower where Alex was, reuniting with him. The southerner began to cough and sputter, and rolled over to see the two embracing as if they hadn't seen each other in years.

 _Why should Alexander love this beast? I’ve been here, right in front of him, for years, and every day, he’s turned me down. How dare he choose this creature over me?!_ Thomas thought, jaw clenching, _Alexander is the best. And I only deserve the best, don’t I?_

"You came back," John shook his head at Alex, "Man, I thought you were gone for good. Why didn't you just get with that guy?" he jerked a thumb back to Jefferson, "He seemed pretty adamant." John asked this, but it seemed like he already knew the answer as to why. Alex smiled.

"He looks at me like I'm stupid," the writer shrugged, "I'm not stupid."

"Nah," John gave his own dopey smile, "You're not." Just as they were about to go back in for another hug, time seemed to slow. Alex saw Thomas rise again, but didn't react fast enough as he saw the pistol being raised. The silver glint of the weapon against the pouring rain was all Alex was able to process, and before he knew it, a loud crack rang through the air as the gun was fired.

John fell on the floor of the balcony, holding his side. Thomas was grinning wickedly from the rooftop, looking almost deranged as a bolt of lightning lit up his face. Alexander sat in shock, tears mixing with rainwater. He knew Thomas was relentless, but for him to take a turn like this?

"No," Alex murmured, watching as John groaned, "No, no, no-"

"Face it," Thomas sighed, stepping up onto the railing of the balcony and polishing his gun off, "You can't marry a monster." Alex looked up, rage overtaking him, and grabbed the gun from Thomas' hands. Ignoring the look of surprise on his face, Alexander flipped it around in his hands.

"That rules you out, Jefferson," the shorter man gritted out, and before Thomas could even register what was happening, Alex smacked him as hard as he could with the barrel, sending the curly-haired, self-absorbed man teetering and screaming as he fell far, far down to his death.

Dropping the pistol without a second thought, Alex rushed back to John's side. Blood pooled around him, and the beast- the _man_ he loved was choking out something.

"John, please don't leave me," Alex was chanting, almost blind as the tears in his eyes continued to gather, "This is our adventure, and it's..." he sniffed, "It's just starting. John, it's just starting." He grasped John's paw, as John struggled to smile.

"I may not live to see our glory," he managed out, bringing a paw to Alex’s face, "But I can imagine what our happily ever after could've looked like... and damn, Alexander, is it... beautiful." Alex repeated John's name, but John had since stopped responding, eyes staring past him. Alex clutched at his clothing, collapsing on top of him and letting out a soft whimper.

Downstairs, the objects had long since defeated the cowardly villagers. They had tended to their wounded, counted their dead, and realized this didn't mean freedom for them- not yet. As time inched on, they began to realize the last petal would fall any moment now.

"Shhhh," Lafayette consoled a sniffling Adrienne, hugging her to him, "It will be alright, ma cherie. It is not worth it to cr-" he paused as he no longer felt the shaking of the duster in his arms, and looked down sadly to see that Adrienne had become an antique. Setting her down softly, the frenchman sighed, looking around. Everyone was beginning to turn.

"Gentlemen," Hercules said gravely, "It's been a slice." With that, he closed his wardrobe doors forever, his features hardening into wood. Next, Eliza came by, frantically calling out Philip's name.

"Philip?! I told him to hide, I told him to wait in the cupboard, but he's not there... Philip?! Where is my son?!"

"Mom!" the little cup called, bounding over. Eliza let out a breath, and cradled him against her. "Mom, I'm scared... what's happening to everyone?"

"Nothing, sweetheart," Eliza hushed, fighting back her own tears, "We're just going to sleep for a while. Okay?"

"But-"

"No more questions. Count with me.” The little cup nodded, and they huddled together. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf," Eliza encouraged, as Philip finished with her. "Good," she nodded shakily, "Un, deux, trois-" She kept going until neuf again until she realized her baby boy had stopped on three, freezing into a teacup. She let out a scream, one that pained every single servant to hear, but it slowly faded from their ears as she, too, turned. Angelica was ruining her pages with tears, but she cuddled up to her sister and her nephew, her pages drying up as she faded away.

"Well," Burr finally shuffled up to Lafayette, "It's been an honor." Theodosia was draped over his wooden shoulders, but it was obvious she was nothing but a blanket now. Lafayette was about to retort something smart, but then it hit him that this could be the very last time he sees anybody, let alone the stuffy butler he had a secret soft spot for.

"Until next time, Monsieur Burr," Laf nodded softly, resigning himself to the quiet, and did a graceful bow as he and Burr both stopped moving.

Time ticked by slowly. The rain fell over the tower, washing away any destruction inflicted upon the once-beautiful castle. And as the flowers of the lonely gardens began to wither, the last petal of the rose dropped.

"John, don't leave me," Alex whispered, touching his face, "I love you."

Thunder crackled, and rain poured- it poured, and it poured, and it poured, for hours and hours until morning... until it didn't. Out of nowhere, the clouds above began to part, revealing the beautiful rays of the sun shining down over the castle. Alex moved back as a bright light nearly blinded him, overtaking John's body. After a minute, it cleared, and Alex couldn't believe his eyes.

"Alexander?" John asked, standing before him with a grin on his beautiful, human face.

"Fuuuu-" Alex said, as John leapt forward and captured the other man in a kiss. They held onto each other for what seemed like forever, until Alex's curiosity got the better of him and he broke away to get a good look at John.

"Like what you see?" John teased, feeling along his own body. It was strange to be human again, but John wanted to scream with happiness.

"I'd prefer to appreciate you without those tattered, baggy ass clothes on, but there's always tonight to fix that," Alex shrugged, and John kissed him again before the two made their way downstairs. There, everyone was transforming, the sight a truly magical one. They watched in awe as the light overtook the wardrobe and candelabra, leaving in its fading wake an interesting duo. Hercules looked at himself, and hollered with joy, reaching over to pull the other, more nimble man into a hug and a deep kiss. When they pulled away, the larger man pulled off his beanie and pumped it to the sky.

"Yes! I'm a dude again!" he shouted, and began to sway his hips back and forth suggestively. The tall, thin man beside him observed Herc's movements, and mirrored them with a distinguishable laugh that could only belong to-

"Laf?" Alex asked in disbelief, looking up at him. He had a thin, stubbly beard trimmed to perfection, frizzy hair pulled back in a bun, and wore the same cream and gold coloured suit everyone else had on.

"Alexander!" the frenchman laughed, grabbing him by both of his shoulders, and pulled him into a passionate hug, pulling away only to kiss both cheeks twice.

"Holy shit," Alex muttered, still unable to get over the transformations. He never would have guessed they all looked like this. He turned to John, remarking playfully, "Laf's pretty sexy... did I choose the wrong guy here, Laurens?"

John looked between them both, and let out a beastly growl of jealousy that sent all of them into a fit of laughter.

"Gentlemen," they heard suddenly, and turned to find a man with impeccable posture, hands behind his back. He had on a plum-coloured coat with a staunch white cravat, polished boots, and hair buzzed down close to his head. The way he carried himself gave Alexander a hint as to who he was.

" _Burr_ ," Laf crowed, giving him the same friendly treatment he did with Alexander, kisses and all. Burr let him do it stiffly, then cleared his throat, blushing.

"Honoured to meet you properly," he nodded to Alex, and the blush came back when the most beautiful woman they had ever seen approached, wrapping her arms around him.

"My dear Theodosia," Aaron smiled, and the two kissed as Laf, Herc, John, and Alex gave obnoxious wolf whistles. Aaron only turned once to fix them with a tired stare, but gave in as Theo led him back into the castle for some well-deserved alone time.

Adrienne then walked by, her long black hair flowing over skin that almost shimmered in her maid uniform, and Herc and Laf looked at each other, immediately chasing after her. Alexander suddenly gasped as he saw two women change, noticing each other. One had straight black hair and a large blue dress, the other had curly black hair and a peach coloured one.

"Angelica!" the woman in the blue dress squealed.

"Eliza!" Angelica called, both running toward each other with their arms open. Just then, in another bright flash, a younger looking woman in a yellow dress popped up between them.

"And Peggy," she grinned, and all three of them shared a tight group hug.

"The Schuyler sisters?!" Alex marvelled, joining them. They turned to him, and Angelica opened her arms. Alex gladly accepted the hug from the beautiful former book, and Eliza gave him the tightest hug he had ever felt after that. Peggy met him for the first time, then they all heard a noise. A small kid with hair as poufy as John's came toddling out from underneath Eliza's huge hoop skirt, and Alex knew immediately who it was.

"We didn't sleep for very long," Philip yawned, and Eliza scooped him up happily, kissing him all over. When the boy caught sight of Alex, he wriggled out of his mother's arms and came bounding over, jumping up to slam into Alex with a hug.

"Philip, I can't believe it's you,” Alex beamed.

“I can spit a verse if you need proof it’s me,” the little boy said seriously, but Eliza just took his arm, patting him on the head.

“You're gonna be a handsome guy one day," Alex nodded to the boy, and Philip smirked, slicking back his hair.

"Yo- I already am." John slapped the kid a low five, and Alex grinned as everything on the castle grounds was restored to its former glory.


	9. Epilogue

Alexander and John became the governing body of the little village as well as the kingdom, allowing George to retire back to his cottage. Alex and John had offered him his own wing of the castle, as Philip had taken to him as a grandfather just as the boy had with Alex as a father figure, but George was content with simply visiting often, and leaving his son to enjoy married life. Alexander knew how James felt about Thomas' death, so in order to lift the small man's spirits, he let him in on a new law he was planning to propose to the town, offering him a part in writing the essays to defend it. James gratefully accepted, to keep himself busy.

John left Alex to his writing and lawmaking, but his sexual appetite never wavered- being celibate for that many years can do that to a guy, especially one as usually frisky as John, and with Alexander around, he could never keep his hands off of him.

Of course, Alex was more than fine with this. They fucked on every surface of the castle (the castle had over 134 spaces for such, and the library was the one they most frequented). John made it his personal mission to show Alex that he had made the right choice by coming back.

Evidently, Alex needed no convincing. He had found the perfect man, and the adventure he needed where he had least expected it- all the grief, confusion, and fear he had gone through to get here all boiled down to what he learned about himself. He wrote his own deliverance all those years ago when he came to that little town… now he would invent a new narrative with his prince charming and everyone in the castle, a story to be told for years to come.


End file.
